


Among the Deepening Shades

by jesterlady



Series: The Shade Series [1]
Category: Being Human, Being Human (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Bang Challenge, Canon Het Relationship, Canon Rewrite, Character Death Fix, Community: scifibigbang, F/M, Fantasy, Female Friendship, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, POV Multiple, Past Infidelity, Romance, Season/Series 03, Urban Fantasy, Wordcount: Over 100.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 102,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlady/pseuds/jesterlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell, Annie, George, Nina. Four Monsters. Four Humans. They all have their secrets, they all have their own demons. It's only a matter of time before they either have to overcome them or fall into their own darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SusanMarieR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanMarieR/gifts).



> Amazing art by SusanMarieR can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2226909)  
> Thank you so much!
> 
>  
> 
> I have some rather extensive notes, see last chapter, but nothing else to say other than that if you're the person who watches BH for the swearing, you won't find it here, sorry.
> 
>  

Annie was being punished.

It was hard to tell what for or how long it had been. Time wasn’t something that really made much sense to her anymore.

She had been torn from her life and that was enough to make it precious even though she had been rather tired of it before that point.

She could only remember a few times in her existence when she’d been as terrified as she was now. Once when she was little and it was Christmas time, she’d lost her mother in a crowd and it had been dark and cold, freezing her with terror. Suddenly a giant Father Christmas had been illuminated in the store window and her heart had pounded and she’d screamed until her mother had found her again.

The first time Owen had hit her was the second time. She’d gone out to tea with an old schoolmate who happened to be male and during an innocent recounting of her day Owen had exploded with an ugly rage, pushing her against the wall. She’d had one split second of realizing that her life was going to be like this and it had chilled her from head to toe.

The third time was when Mitchell had gone off to kill Herrick and George had left to pursue his own life (or so she’d thought at the time) and she’d been left all alone with sudden voices in her head and people crying out around her in anguish. The seconds before the other ghost had appeared and clued her in to what was going on had seemed to stretch forever.

Then there was being dragged into Purgatory. She had wanted to go but not like this, not with someone’s blood on her hands, not really being able to say goodbye, with her promise to George hanging over her head. The corridor pulling her backward was dark and deep and appeared to be endless.

When she could finally see again she was in a white room, a white counter along one wall, white doors along the walls leading to somewhere. There were other people there but they mostly didn’t pay attention to her, almost like they couldn’t see her. There were forms lined up on the counter and the only thing she knew for certain was that she had to fill them out.

People came to and from the room but Annie seemed to stay forever. No one spoke to her, and when she tried to speak to them she was ignored. Other people could leave the room but she couldn’t. When she tried, the door vanished and reappeared on the other side of the room. Sometimes people vanished and even though no one said anything she could feel the fear in the room. There were strange sounds, whispers and bells and buzzers, and she couldn’t ignore them no matter how hard she tried. The unknown was what was so terrifying about this place, this Purgatory. She almost wished whatever punishment they had lined up for her would just happen and then at least she would know.

In the isolation she let her thoughts drift to George and Mitchell and Nina and her longing for them intensified until it seemed to rest underneath her skin like a volcano under the surface of the earth, only waiting for an opportunity to erupt.

She had one moment of clarity and it happened when she was thinking about Mitchell and his almost death, about how conflicted she’d felt, knowing she couldn’t leave him, but knowing her door was waiting for her. Thinking about that moment made her current separation worse. She would give anything for a door leading back. She needed to know what had happened at the facility. That was the worst part, the not knowing. What had Kemp done to George and Nina? What had become of Mitchell? She focused all her thoughts on Bristol and their home and suddenly there was a large pop in her ears, a tingling all over her body, the volcano of longing erupting. She could feel what to do, how to access the knowledge that she wanted.

Almost without any idea of how it was happening she could see what was occurring to the people she loved. She saw Mitchell and George and Nina; Kemp was there too, and a bleeding Lucy. She didn’t know where they were; it was neither their house nor the facility, but Lucy was lying prone, Mitchell kneeling next to her, and Kemp was holding Nina with a sharp stake to her neck. A fierce anger rose inside Annie and she wanted to make him pay for what he’d done, for the contempt he’d shown for her decision to live, his selfish desire to arrange the world to his own design, and for his brutality against her friends, even Lucy, whom Annie had always felt rather indifferent about.

The rage was white hot and she almost felt like she was glowing, her body even more insubstantial with her desire to make him hurt, and to free her friends from his influence.

From what she could tell Annie had always been more solid than other ghosts, like she somehow remembered what a body was supposed to feel like, but now she was weightless, perfectly free of any kind of tether. With a wave of her hand a door appeared in front of her and she was through it, rent-a-ghosting quickly to Kemp, catching one brief glimpse of her friends before she’d shoved Kemp back through the door and flung him toward the darkness as far as she could throw, his screams echoing in her head over and over.

The weightlessness left and her stomach boiled over with lead, exhaustion flooding her. She was back in the white room and she was shaking all over, curling up on the ground, hardly able to believe what she’d just done. The dark fury she’d felt was gone, leaving her twisted and broken inside, ashamed and so relieved at the same time. Kemp was gone and a part of her would never be sorry for it.

She was there alone, no one else to see the quivering mess on the floor that had once been Annie Sawyer. She got herself under control slowly, standing, but she had one last bit of longing left and somehow she was able to see her friends, to see George and Nina and Mitchell.

"Annie!" said George.

"Can you hear me?" she asked, holding her hands up, wishing she could touch them.

She was nervous. Things were happening. They were angry with her, whoever _they_ were. She could just tell. It was like there was something unlocked inside her - she had secret access to the other side and how it worked. She was still confused, still lost, but something inside her knew what was happening, like she’d spun the dial to the right frequency at last.

"Yeah!" cried Mitchell. "We can hear you and see you."

"Are you guys safe now?" she asked.

"Yeah. You saved us," said George.

"Annie," said Mitchell, his voice broken, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, not really wanting to scare them. "It's just a bit complicated. Um, I miss you."

"Oh, we miss you too, Annie," he burst out.

"What's it like there?" asked George.

She didn't want to say, she didn't know what to say, but it poured out of her anyway.

"We wait. We each have a number and we wait for someone to call our number, and then we move to another room and we wait there. But then people disappear and no one ever mentions why. And there are bells and there are buzzers and there are whistles. We have to…we have to fill in this form. And the people. The people behind the doors, they whisper. I don't know what we're waiting for to happen, but sometimes I wish it would-it would just happen. I'm really frightened of what it might be." She paused and looked over her shoulder again. "They're…they're really angry with me for getting Kemp. Because they say there isn't a form for that.” The images of George and Mitchell had knelt in front of her, putting their hands to match hers as she held them up. “I-I have to go, but, please, don't forget me, will you?"

"No," said Mitchell.

She thought she’d always remember that quaking feeling, the sobs hoarse in her throat, the tears stinging her eyes, a shadow of physical pain that felt all too real, while she watched them cry. But then her brief reprieve was over, and she could feel the anger and watchfulness around her grow. She had to leave them.

Things were different after that. She wasn’t in the waiting room - well, sometimes, but there was a different white room, with a grating like a prison, a simple bench the only thing inside it.

People came to see her, giving her forms to fill out. She couldn’t ever remember what was on the forms though she felt like they were more like tests than forms. There was a right answer – she just didn't know it. She couldn’t remember what the people looked like either. Sometimes she thought they looked like pictures of news anchors and commercial actors she’d seen on the television. Others appeared as wispy see-through specters. She hated the Gray Man but she never remembered that until he came back again.

He was thin, so thin, everything about him bland and gray and normal and somehow terrifying. His voice grated in her head, his touch was freezing, and he kept asking her questions she didn’t want to answer. When he didn’t like the answers or when she didn’t answer, he would sigh and talk to her about the thing she didn’t ever want to remember. Dead men with sticks and rope.

It lasted forever, though time still didn’t seem to mean anything, and then during one visit the Gray Man told her they were building a special room for her because she was so wrong and then no one would ever see her again.

She closed her eyes and thought of Bristol again, but, just like always, she could never find it. Instead, she thought of Mitchell, of how he hugged her, how he made her laugh, how he hated to admit he didn’t know something, how much pain he went through, how he never knew he needed them as much as they needed him.

And then there he was, like a picture, just behind the grating she clung to.

He was coming to save her from hell.  



	2. Chapter 2

The withdrawal was worse this time.

It made sense; after all, Mitchell had gorged himself. He’d been full of blood, completely given over to it for the first time in so long, practically a fledgling he was so unused to how a true massacre felt. He’d forgotten how the blood filled your mind so that thinking of anything else was practically impossible, or how coming down from the blood high was worse than any hangover he’d ever had. So now, even weeks later, his head pounded and his hands shook and he couldn’t keep still no matter how hard he tried. 

At the moment there was only one thing saving him from ripping his own head off. That was Annie. She might be lost, stripped from this earth, but she was still saving him. It was his fault that she was gone, his mistakes that had caused her to be where she was. Nina might blame herself; she had stopped being quite so obsessive after Lucy’s death, but Mitchell knew that it was entirely his fault.

He had to get Annie back. She was trapped and alone and he hadn’t prepared her enough for what would come after she was on the other side, let alone what would happen if she were dragged through. When he thought about how little he knew it only made him realize that she knew even less. So he couldn’t rest, couldn’t allow himself the satisfaction of wallowing in his guilt, if he wanted to get her back.

Besides, George needed him, too. George, who had been alternating between raging anger and uncontrollable sobbing since they’d left Bristol. Then, after Lucy had come to them and Kemp had killed her, George had sunken into apathy. Nina was barely any better, though she seemed to manage to give Mitchell scorching glares whenever they crossed paths.

He didn’t blame her for that but he knew he needed to stick close to George. That was all George had asked for, that the two of them stay close to him. Sometimes Mitchell wondered if George realized that the true split and war inside him was not between the human and the wolf but between his need for Nina and his need for Annie and Mitchell.

Now that Annie was gone there was just Mitchell, and George was clinging to him. Mitchell didn’t mind that, he needed George, too. With Annie gone, a part of them was missing. But Mitchell felt guilt the longer they ran and the more he lied to them about where they were going and why. 

He’d tried to tell them and it wasn’t as if they didn’t know half the story already, the bloody corpses surrounding them as they fled the facility their own testament to the truth, but George hadn’t been ready to hear everything. In a way Mitchell was angry with George for not letting Mitchell confess, but he was also relieved because he didn’t want George to look at him the way he knew George would.

But it was only a matter of time. There wasn’t a way to keep the full truth from them forever. They weren’t stupid. Sooner or later they’d turn on the news and put two and two together. That was partly why Mitchell had taken them from Bristol; both to escape from anything connecting him to the Box Tunnel Twenty and so George and Nina wouldn’t have to find out right away. Mitchell had told Lucy the truth when he’d said that they couldn’t go back to Bristol because it was Annie’s house and she was gone, but there were other reasons, too.

Reasons he needed to bare before everything exploded in his face just like they always inevitably did.

He just needed to find the time, the right place. They were in Barry now and it had been a long time since Mitchell had been to Wales. Yet there they were, in a kitschy bed and breakfast absurdly named Honolulu Heights. George was doing better, feeling more grounded now that they had a home, but Mitchell was slowly burning with his desire to find Annie. Somehow finding Annie was linked with redemption in his mind. Maybe nothing could change what he’d done, but surely rescuing someone as pure as Annie would count for something. He needed her.

Mitchell shook his head and deliberately turned on the telly. Nina and George were upstairs, but it might as well be now. Cowardly, he hid in the basement until he could hear them coming down the stairs. The news was about to come on.

They talked idly about unpacking and the hospital for a few minutes and the tap came on. Mitchell started to wonder if it would ever happen but then there was a loud gasp.

“George,” he heard Nina say loudly.

“What?” came George’s voice. 

Mitchell crept up the stairs and inched toward the kitchen.

“I don’t bloody believe it,” said Nina. “That bastard, that…that…” she broke off.

Mitchell stood behind them. Nina had sunk to the floor, holding her stomach. George was frozen beside her.

The pictures flashed across the screen, faces Mitchell saw at night in his dreams. More uncomfortable was the blood lust that flooded him when he remembered their delicious terror and the way the warm blood had splashed over everything, bathing the world with a glorious red haze. He closed his eyes against the images but they refused to go away, plastered on the inside of his eyelids.

When he opened them again Nina was sobbing on the floor and George was sitting next to her, holding her hand with one hand, the other grasping his glasses. Mitchell gave them a moment but he didn’t want to leave; maybe he needed their righteous anger, taking a bit of perverse pleasure in knowing how they would feel and how they would treat him. But a larger part of him prayed for mercy because if only there was some grace in this world then he could go on from this. He didn’t believe it, but he craved it as surely as he craved the kill.

The pounding in his head came back full force and he put his head in his hands, willing it away. It didn’t work.

“I thought the facility was bad enough,” Nina said finally, “but this…”

“I’m sorry,” Mitchell said from behind them, leaning against the wall, trying to keep the pain under control.

Nina’s head shot up and she was on her feet, rushing to him, pounding her fists against his chest.

“You’re sorry! You don’t get to be sorry. How dare you be sorry!”

Mitchell let her rail against him; it was preferable to his own broody sorrow. Nina’s anger was so refreshing, so honest, but then Mitchell met George’s eyes over Nina’s head and he wished he were anywhere but there.

“Nina,” George said quietly, then louder, “Nina.”

“Don’t you dare make excuses for him,” Nina said, glaring at George.

“I’m not,” said George.

When George was quiet, there was a raw kind of power in the air and Mitchell could tell the minute Nina sensed it and slowed her onslaught. She backed away slowly, chest heaving, tears running down her face.

Mitchell walked forward like a man going to an execution.

“Why?” George asked, only then did Mitchell catch the faint tremors in his voice.

“There are reasons, but no good ones,” Mitchell said finally.

“That’s not good enough,” George said, his control obviously starting to fail. “You can’t just do things like that. You don’t get to come back from that. How could you? How could you do that to me? To Annie, to Nina? How could you?”

“It’s what I am,” Mitchell said.

George’s fist flew up and Mitchell did nothing to stop it, his jaw stinging from the blow.

“How many times do I have to ask you what the hell you’re doing!” George yelled, tears starting to fall. “Why did you save me if this is what it was going to come to? Why the house, why Annie? You have…betrayed…me.”

“George, I’m sorry,” said Mitchell, nothing else coming to mind for him to say.

“Sorry’s not good enough,” George said. “Come here.” He grabbed Mitchell’s arm and dragged him to the phone, dialing in some numbers, then jabbed the speaker phone. “This is what I was protecting you from, but you don’t deserve to be protected.”

Annie’s voice filtered into the room and Mitchell’s throat constricted to hear it. She sounded warm and tired and her words resounded in his head until he couldn’t think straight.

_"It's me. If you're listening to this it means I've gone. The man that came to the house to talk to George, he's-he's helped me complete my journey. For so long now I've been, um, I've been tired...and frightened. The prospect of this scream of time in front of me...is terrifying. Do you remember, George, I was gonna pass over and you couldn't understand why if I didn't know what lay beyond? It's because this endless life - never aging, never kissing, never having a family, all the things that make you human - not having them, it’s a worse hell than anything they’ve got over there. But you boys…I love you boys. Because it was through you two that I’ve, I’ve really, truly lived. Bye."_

Guilt hit Mitchell anew, a fresh stab of pain to go with his already blinding headache and he didn’t know what to say, wanting to crumble under the weight of responsibility he felt. He had done that, driven her away, wearing away at her connection to life because he’d been caught up with the vampires, besotted with Lucy.

“I thought…” he said, blinking at George.

George, who stood with balled fists and tears streaming from his red eyes.

“She was going to go,” he said. “You drove her to that. I take some responsibility but we weren’t enough for her. I found out and I convinced her to stay. I wanted her to stay for you, for you and me, so we could figure out what to do together. I wanted to save you. But then she was ripped...”

“I felt her go,” Mitchell said, suddenly raising his voice. “Every part of my body exploded in pain because she was gone. Nothing else could have stopped my rampage; nothing else could have assuaged my need for revenge.”

“Against who? Who harmed you so much? Lucy? Don’t be bloody ridiculous.”

“It’s not like that,” Mitchell said. He told them everything, about the vampires needing him, about Ivan, about Lucy, about the bomb, about Daisy, about it all. They didn’t interrupt him except for George making some random, surprised squeaking sounds when Mitchell mentioned Daisy. “It’s not a good reason, George,” Mitchell said quietly, “but it’s all I have. Annie stopped me.”

“You don’t deserve her,” Nina said sharply from behind them where she’d been prowling, tense and furious.

“I know that,” Mitchell growled. “I know that.”

“Not enough,” Nina said. “You act like you know everything, like you’re the savior of all the little monsters, but you’re the worst of us all, your pride and arrogance causing everyone around you to fall. You are poison,” she finished, punctuating every word.

Mitchell felt everything she said in his gut, mostly because George didn’t contradict her. Silence hung in the air, her words blanketing the tension in the room.

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Mitchell finally said. “I’m going to get Annie back, George, fix this as best as I can. I’m sorry you didn’t know but you didn’t want to know.”

“This is what you were going to tell me,” George stated. “As if a confession would change any of it.”

“Don’t deny you knew it was this bad,” Mitchell said. “You didn’t want to know so you could hold onto your happy little image of everything being okay.”

George nodded.

“So you get Annie back and then what?”

“Whatever you want,” Mitchell said, shrugging his shoulders.

“I want to push you away,” George said. “I don’t want to look at you.”

“I understand,” Mitchell said, even though he felt like he was dying all over again.

“No, you don’t,” George cried, “because I won’t. Don’t you understand me? I hate you because I can’t let you go, not now, not with Annie gone.”

“George, no,” said Nina.

“I’m sorry, Nina,” said George, turning to her. “I hate him but he’s all that’s left.”

“What about me?” she asked, hurt in her face, though her tone was sharp. “Do I count for nothing?”

“You’re my very heart,” George said, going to her and framing her face in his hands. “I will do whatever you want. But please don’t make me do this. It’s too soon. Annie’s gone.”

“It will never be enough, you’re as addicted to him as he is to blood,” said Nina, and then sighed. “But I know the feeling. It’s never enough for me either.” She turned to Mitchell and her gaze became ice. “You find Annie and that fixes everything, does it? How do you begin to fix those people’s lives? Where’s their justice, where’s their resolution?”

“I have no answer to that,” Mitchell said tightly.

“Then where’s your true contrition?” Nina shouted. “It’s always about hiding with you, about different rules. We’re monsters but we don’t have to face the consequences of our actions because we can just blame it all on our inner nature or whatever the hell else we feel like. If you were truly sorry you would turn yourself into the police.”

“Don’t you know how easy that would be?” Mitchell said, running his hand through his hair, beginning to pace. “That would be perfection, Nina. I could rot in a jail cell, locked up, finally away from the temptation. It would be peace, Nina, such peace. But, no, I can’t do that. Because I have to protect you and George and all of bloody humanity. I have to protect my fellow vampires. I have to protect everyone. I wish to hell I could just rest, but I never can.”

“How convenient,” Nina said. “Why is it your responsibility? Why do you always have to play the martyr?”

He didn’t really have an answer for that, either. To find one would mean having to look more closely at himself and it had been a long time since he'd wanted to do that.

“I don’t know.”

“Because you love the pain,” she muttered, going into the kitchen.

“Maybe I do,” he said, “but I can’t…I just can’t. I can’t let them find out about us, Nina; I can’t let humanity loose on the vampires or the vampires loose on humanity. Where does that leave me?”

“Without punishment,” Nina said, coming out of the kitchen with a spatula in her hand. “But, here, you want punishment without putting the world in jeopardy? Well, I’ve always been on the fence about capital punishment, but it’s all coming so clear, and I think now’s a good time to make a stand on the issue.”

She brandished the wooden end of the utensil and Mitchell flinched, not sure if he could let her do it, but not sure if it wouldn’t be best after all. Yet there was Annie.

“Please don’t,” George said brokenly. “I wish you would, but don’t.”

“When will it end, George?” Nina asked, not turning from Mitchell. “How bad does it have to be before it’s enough?”

“I don’t know,” George said. He turned to Mitchell. “What do you think? Can you control yourself now? Is this it? How many more times do you slip up? How many more times can I forgive you?”

“That’s up to you,” Mitchell said slowly. “I might always make mistakes, but I need someone to help me not make them. I do, I do, I do.”

“If I forgive you,” George said, “then I’m culpable.”

“Don’t forgive me,” Mitchell said, sagging. “I don’t deserve it.”

“You’ve got that right,” Nina said viciously.

“But I can accept you,” George said finally, his hands on his face and the weight of the world in his eyes. “I can-I can take this black mark. It’s because I’m too weak.” Nina looked like she wanted to say something, but didn’t. “Nina, can you accept that? Can-can we just get Annie back and try to retain some kind of normalcy from now on?”

Nina turned away from them and put her forehead on the counter and just breathed for several long minutes.

When she looked at them again she wore a resigned look.

“I don’t like this world.”

“I hate it,” said Mitchell and George at the same time.

For some reason that broke some of the tension, Mitchell could never say why, but just that one moment of being in synch made the haunted look in George’s eyes go away. Even Nina’s face softened.

“I guess that’s sorted then,” Nina said, tossing the spatula on the counter and speaking briskly. “First thing’s first, Mitchell, if you mess up again, then you get staked, are we clear?”

Mitchell nodded, pushing away his irritation at being told what to do by a dog.

“Crystal.”

“Second thing, we need to figure out how to get Annie back, that’s your assignment, got it?”

“Just the one I wanted,” Mitchell said, pushing back his panic now that the worst appeared to be over.

“George and I are going to see if we can get gainful employment but I don’t want you stepping outside of this house if you don’t need to. The last thing in the world we need is for your name to pop up anywhere.”

Mitchell had a brief thought that Nina would make an excellent cleaner, a job most vampires hated because it involved getting rid of their mistakes instead of making them.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You both want normal, then we’ll do normal with a vengeance. I don’t want to talk about today; I don’t want to think about today. I want a job and I want a lover and I want a flatmate and I want my friend back. Are we clear?”

Mitchell wanted to laugh and he actually couldn’t help but smile, the first one he’d had since that dreadful night.

“Yes.”

Nina made as if to sweep out of the room, and then stopped, her back toward them.

“This is why we had to leave Bristol, isn’t it?”

“Partly,” Mitchell answered. Nina nodded and then left. Mitchell’s smile faded as he looked at George. “She really is something,” he said quietly.

“She is,” George said. There was a pause. “And I will choose her if I need to.”

“As it should be,” said Mitchell, but he still felt a twisted pain at the thought. “But if you don’t need to…where does that leave us?”

“Just get Annie back,” George said, sounding exhausted. “I just need her back and until then…I need you to be here, okay?”

“Okay,” Mitchell said.

It was all he could say. George followed Nina and Mitchell slumped down against the bar.

That could have gone better, it could have gone worse. Now he just needed to figure out how to fix it all. He could, he would, he had to. He just had to. Because if he couldn’t…he had to come back from this, he couldn’t let it win. Not again.

***

Nina walked outside needing to think, bile still in her throat from what she’d just witnessed. She couldn’t process the death of all of those people, she just couldn’t right now. What she needed was to get away, to focus on something else. Not that it was any healthier, but George’s obsession with Mitchell was the first thing that came to mind.

Nina felt afraid, afraid that she had fallen in love with a man who was codependent with a monster and a ghost and that no matter what they did that was reprehensible he’d never be able to move on.

She loved George, sometimes so much that she couldn’t breathe, but she was desperately afraid that he would never love her as much as she did him, that she would never be the first person in his life. She’d asked him to choose her once before and he had, but circumstances had propelled them right back into this hell of living with a vampire and dealing with the morality of the supernatural.

Nina missed Annie, too, she really did. She’d never forget how Annie had welcomed her into the little pink house, comforted her the night Nina had transformed for the first time, becoming a friend like Nina had never had before. She didn’t want Annie to be lost forever. She’d seen how scared Annie had been on the screen back when she’d saved Nina’s life, but even if Mitchell could get Annie back, that didn’t excuse what he’d done and Nina didn’t see how George could look the other way, no matter how much he loved Mitchell.

Yet Nina could understand because she’d just done the same thing. She loved George so much she was willing to look away while he continued his absolution of Mitchell’s sins. If she could stay with him, she’d let him stay with Mitchell and she didn’t want to be the one to insist they leave. She hated herself and she hated George and she hated Mitchell most of all. She just missed Annie with a deep ache. There was no easy answer here, but she was still determined to find the right one, because if she didn’t then she might as well be a monster.

But she couldn’t think about those people, not yet. If she did she’d call the hotline number they’d advertised on the news, that and throw up all over their neighbor’s front yard.

“Nina,” called George. “Nina, wait.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, George,” she said, her tears threatening to make a return visit. “We settled the issue.”

“But will you be okay?” he asked, a gentleness in his voice that made her want to weep harder.

“None of us will ever be okay so long as we condone things like that,” she said softly.

“I’m just…I’m just suspending judgment for now,” said George. “I just need Annie back and then we can, then we can talk about it.”

“There will be some other excuse in place by then,” said Nina, looking at him squarely.

“Nina…”

“No, George, I just need to know that if we’re going to have a relationship together that I will be the most important person in your life. I need to know whether I should walk away now to save myself the pain and the guilt.”

“Nina, don’t go,” he pleaded, his face stricken, “please. I’ll go with you if you do, but I just don’t want to have to do that, not until Annie’s back.”

“It won’t be magically fixed even if he gets her back,” said Nina. “You’ll still be dependent on the two of them, caught up in the little dysfunctional friendship that the three of you formed.”

“He saved my life,” George said hoarsely, “and I don’t know how to live in this world without him.”

“So he has carte blanche to massacre anyone he likes because he had a good day once?” snapped Nina.

“No,” said George loudly. “But I have to be willing to help him if I can.”

“And what about me?” she asked. “Where do I fit in?

“You’re here,” he said, stepping closer and putting his hand on his heart. “Nina, I love you so much. I-I-I can’t live without you either.”

“Let’s hope you can,” she said, “because I don’t know what this is going to come to and if someday you have to make a choice I don’t know that you’ll choose me.”

“I make you a promise,” he said earnestly. “I will choose you. If the moment comes, I choose you.”

She didn’t feel better, but she believed that he believed it. She closed the distance between them and kissed him lightly.

“I hope so,” she said and then walked away.

She had a lot of things to think about. She had his promise that at least gave her some reassurance, but for now she would shelve the problem of whether or not George would choose her and pick up the problem of Mitchell’s existence. She didn’t know if she could live with the decision she’d made today and she wanted to do some examining within herself to see why she’d agreed to let him get away with killing so many people.

***

The days passed slowly. George and Nina got their jobs at the hospital. Under Mitchell’s insistence they changed their last names and used papers he’d gotten for them using his connections. But he’d done all that before they’d gotten to Barry, not really wanting any of those connections to know where he was going. Not that it made too much of a difference. It wasn’t that hard for creatures of the night to find each other, normally, but Mitchell wanted to put as much distance between them and Bristol and their past as possible.

Mitchell was slightly worried about Daisy. He’d gone to the facility in a blind rage and hadn’t informed her about going to seek his revenge. Now that Mitchell was himself again, he cursed himself for not thinking about how that would appear to Daisy. Daisy was all impulse and drive with her loyalties soaked deep into her skin even as they appeared to change on the surface. She’d hate him for not telling her. She’d hate him for leaving. She’d hate him for renewing his faith in humanity. He’d made George and Nina leave Bristol in a hurry for that reason, let alone any other.

His part in taking care of their practical affairs was over. While the other two got the money sorted Mitchell tried to figure out how they could get to Annie. He spent days pouring over books and thinking back on all his past connections with ghosts and the other side. Unfortunately he hadn’t paid much attention then, being too concerned with his next kill. His best bet was electronics for communication. That had been something his friendship with Annie had taught him. Amazing that he’d lived for so long and yet it was only his brief time with her that had given him his best information on her kind. Maybe there was too much separation between the three types. Granted, that was probably his type’s fault. Vampires were arseholes.

He’d learned something else very valuable from his time with Annie and George, even Nina to some extent. Something that made him afraid that he’d be left on his own again and he didn’t think he could face that. He tried not to think about it; just getting Annie back was important.

She appeared to him one day on the television when he was all alone in the house. 

“Annie, Annie,” he shouted, putting a hand to the screen.

“Mitchell, Mitchell, is that you?” she asked, her face flickering in and out of static.

“It’s me, Annie, are you okay?”

“They've got this waiting room,” she said. “We wait here until they know where they want us to go. I have to fill out forms.”

“What?” he asked, confused. "Have they told you where?"

"They're going to build a special room," she said, looking terrified. "Just for me. They're gonna lock the door and they're gonna burn the key."

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"It means hell, Mitchell," she said, clinging to the chain link grating she appeared to be speaking through. "They're going to take me to hell."

"Annie, listen to me, I'm coming to get you," he said.

“I’m scared, Mitchell,” she said. “I wish I could leave.”

“I’m coming for you, Annie, I will find you,” he promised.

She nodded.

“I know. I know. But…hurry.” She glanced over her shoulder and then shuddered. “They’re coming,” she said and Mitchell heard the tremble in her voice. “I don’t want them to find me. I kept trying to talk to you but I didn’t know where you were.”

“I’m right here,” Mitchell said, “tell me how to find you.”

“Corridors with doors and rooms,” she said, her voice wavering. She glanced around again. “I have to go.”

“Annie, be careful,” he said, his face practically plastered to the screen now. “I’m coming.”

Her form faded and the telly went black. Mitchell ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. This wasn’t helping him. She had been frightened and it was his fault.

“Think, Mitchell,” he said to himself. “You get there through doors, so to get there you wait till someone dies. Can you communicate? Radios, I need radios,” he said.

He ran through the house collecting radios and messed around with them the whole afternoon, trying to boost their power together. The other side was accessed through the cracks and corners of the world and sound waves and frequencies and signals were all things that ran through those cracks and corners. If he could somehow get a message through he might be able to see where he was going and make a plan for when he got there.

When Nina came home he was in the living room surrounded by wires and dials and sheets of paper.

“I hope that means you’re coming along,” she said and didn’t stop for an answer. 

Mitchell barely heard her, continuing to work through the evening, acknowledging George’s greeting with a hurried hello and shushing him when George tried to ask what was going on.

Finally Mitchell threw what he was holding down in frustration; there just wasn’t enough power. Or maybe it wouldn’t work no matter what. But surely there must be more radios in the house? Maybe he just didn’t have enough. Seized with a new energy he raced up the stairs and tapped on George and Nina’s door before running in.

“Got a radio?” he asked.

"What?" squawked George. 

“I have an idea. I need another radio.” He barely registered their position on the bed and Nina’s clothing before spotting what he wanted on the other side. He leapt on the bed amidst a chorus of protests and dug around the wall socket to grab it and then exited hurriedly. “Cheers,” he threw over his shoulder and went back downstairs.

He found two more radios buried in the storage closet along with a bunch of straw hats and faded fake flower leis and took the whole box into the main room.

He reconnected all the radios and then turned both them and the telly on. He needed a roadmap and he needed to connect with the other side to do that. 

Static flickered on the telly and he thrust his fists in the air in triumph. There was a sound like a train whistle, and voices started to come over the radios. A lot of voices. Mitchell grabbed his head because there were too many of them, all speaking loudly. Faces appeared and vanished and reappeared on the telly screen.

“Where’s my mummy?”

“Do you know she never even apologized for doing it?”

“Where’s Jack? This is all his fault!”

“I’m in the wrong place; I’m in the wrong place.”

“Where am I?”

“Who are you?”

“Father, I’m coming.”

“This is it, I’ve done it!”

“Susan, come along now.”

“I don’t see how that’s any concern of mine.”

The voices kept coming, many languages, young and old, male and female. The faces on the screen seemed to be from all time periods.

“Mitchell!” Annie’s voice filtered through the others.

“Annie!” he cried, leaning over the bar to reach the telly but she wasn’t there.

It was too much. The voices got louder, he’d pulled on too much power and too much of his attention was focused on the other side. Being dead himself he had a natural affinity for the place. It was like he was drawing the dead to himself but now they were all talking at once and he couldn’t distinguish anything - pretty soon they would all be inside his head chatting and screaming and wandering forever.

He turned off the screen and the room went blessedly dark and silent.

Well, so much for that. He was just going to have to go through without any kind of idea of what he was facing, because he needed to find her. Now.

It suddenly hit him that he was starving and he rummaged through the kitchen before he threw some leftover pasta and sauce in a bowl and stuck it in the microwave. He practically inhaled the food he was so hungry, but he still wasn’t satisfied at the end of the meal. It was one of the parts he hated about coming off blood, knowing he was full but feeling like he could devour a town full of people. It didn’t change no matter how many times he went through it. 

He was exhausted. He might as well go to sleep for a few hours before he broke the news to George and Nina about how he planned to go and get Annie. He was sure Nina was going to balk but considering their position in the hospital it was the surest way of getting a door to appear, unless he went crazy and killed someone, you never know.

Mitchell sighed and climbed the stairs. 

He and George had settled into an uneasy sort of silence where they still talked and acted like everything was fine but there was always something in the air between them. Part of it seemed like it was grief, their shared attachment to Annie always present and spoiling normality, but whenever Nina was with them there was an extra stiffness like George felt he had to be extra unforgiving toward Mitchell in her presence. Mitchell wasn’t sure if that meant he and George were fine, if George and Nina weren’t fine, if they were all crazy, or all of the above at once. 

Nina indeed seemed to have an uncanny ability for acting like everything was fine or maybe he was just used to a certain amount of reserve from her. She and Mitchell had never really seemed to connect from the beginning. He had tried, but she had always partially blamed him for her traumatic entrance into their lives and had never wanted his help. At the same time he’d always felt a strange rapport with her. There had been moments in those first early days with George and then again when Nina could see Annie that the two of them had shared looks and conversations regarding George and Annie and their antics and it had been nice. Even now whenever George went off on a rampage about something Mitchell and Nina simply exchanged a look over his head and somehow were able to communicate with each other about which one of them needed to calm him down this time.

Their relationship was the kind that gave Mitchell hope for the future, that they could be good friends, that there was something between them apart from their mutual love of George. The only thing that stood in their way was a big fat dripping red list of victims that Mitchell could never hope to wipe clean and unless Nina could find her way around that they would never be close. Parts of Mitchell hoped she never would because the very way she looked at him always made him feel ashamed and like he never wanted to kill again.

Either way he felt that his fate would truly be decided when Annie got back and inevitably found out.

Mitchell meant to go straight in his room but he’d obviously left George and Nina’s door ajar in his hasty flight from their room and neither of them had closed it again. Their voices filtered through his thoughts easily and he stopped when he heard Nina speak his name.

“-has a serious problem, George!”

“I agree. That’s not my point.”

“But you don’t see that should be the whole point.”

“Nina, it’s late and I’m exhausted and you’re still wearing that-that…”

“I’m under the covers, George,” she said in exasperation. “You can’t even see me.”

“I just don’t like talking about Mitchell when you’re wearing that.”

“Well, we need to talk about him anyway. You saw him; he came leaping in here like a crazy person.”

“He just wants to find Annie,” George said.

“He just wants a lobotomy,” Nina rejoined. “My point is, whether he finds Annie or not, whether we all set up house together for life or not, something has to be done about what he did.”

“What do you suggest we do about it? Ring the police?”

“I know he’s got you all convinced that would be the end of the world but I’m not buying it.”

“Nina, you don’t know,” said George in a tired voice. “The things that happen. The world isn’t ready. Think of how you reacted.”

“I’d been scratched not just introduced,” she snapped.

“…I know.”

“I’m sorry,” Nina said in a contrite voice. “But I’m so worried, George, and I’m so tired. I worry that your affection for him clouds your judgment. Then I worry about my own judgment, if my affection for you clouds mine. We should not be okay with what he did.”

“I am not okay with it,” George squeaked.

“But you’re going to accept it,” Nina said. “We should not accept evil.”

“I don’t.”

“Then tell me this, after we left Bristol, say we’d never found out about the Box Tunnel Twenty or the Box Tunnel Twenty never happened, would we be having this conversation?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“We watched him kill all those people at the facility.”

“I know,” George said and Mitchell could practically see him squirming. 

“You were okay with it, well, you were willing to let it happen because you talked him down from killing one man and you got your best friend back.”

“That’s not-”

“You can’t categorize evil,” Nina said. “It wouldn’t matter if Mitchell slaughtered three trainloads of innocent people or killed a homeless, family-less man in an alley with a rap sheet as long as Mitchell’s, murder is murder.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t,” George said.

“But you’re willing to forgive the facility killings that you personally watched happen and the one thing you can’t let go of is people you’ve never seen.”

“Those were innocent people on that train,” George protested.

“What about that bumbling oaf who kept getting our coffees wrong?” asked Nina. “Certainly you can’t tell me he was some hardened criminal? There weren’t only werewolf killers in the facility that night. Besides, you keep missing my point. It shouldn’t matter if the killings mattered to you, it matters that they happened at all.”

“I know,” George said, sighing. “The problem is, I got used to the idea of him being a killer a long time ago. He…he’s done awful things in his past but he was trying to change.”

“How many people have to die before he truly does?” Nina asked. “It’s not the vampire I’m afraid of, George, it’s the man inside. He controls that evil and he doesn’t do a very good job of it.”

“I think he does a better job than we know,” George whispered.

“I think he enjoys the killing,” said Nina.

Mitchell couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t know if it would do more harm than good at this point but he knocked softly on their door.

“Sorry,” he said, slipping inside. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“For how long?” Nina asked dryly.

“Long enough,” Mitchell said. 

His defenses were very low at the moment. He felt wired and defeated from his work all day long. His obsession with getting to Annie was a low burning in his gut and his desire for blood an aching feeling in his temple. Just then he’d do anything for a kind word from anyone. There were a lot of things Nina said that made him think, but somehow she was still always just a hair off.

“Well?” Nina asked.

“There’s a part of me that does like the killing,” Mitchell said. “I also think you’re right, that my crimes shouldn’t be categorized into the bad, awful, and atrocious columns on some kind of spreadsheet. But I’m sorry; you can’t know how sorry I am. It eats me inside, every minute of every day. I don’t ask for forgiveness, but please just let me try to make it better.” He turned to George. “I miss Annie but I miss you, too. I know it’s my fault but I miss you.”

George looked away and then back at Mitchell.

“I miss you, too,” he said, tears glinting in his eyes. “I miss the way it was, even the awful times.”

“Those awful times were better than these awful times,” Mitchell agreed, unable to help a little smile from peeking through.

George swallowed a sob into a laugh and glanced at Nina.

“You’re both ridiculous,” she said. “I miss it, too, okay? But reality’s reality.”

“Let’s change it,” George said hopefully. “Make a new reality.”

“We can try,” said Mitchell.

“And probably fail,” muttered Nina before she cracked a smile. “I’m not happy,” she warned both of them, “but I can’t live like this anymore.”

“Thank you,” Mitchell said.

“This might all change when Annie comes back and finds out,” Nina said in an unusually gentle tone of voice.

“Gotta be done,” Mitchell said, clapping his hands together. “Reminds me, I’ve got an idea.”

He laid it out for them.

“You’re mental,” said Nina.

“But you could be trapped,” said George.

“Well, how did you figure we were gonna get her back, George?” asked Mitchell. “Somebody was gonna have to go.”

“I just, well, I didn’t- Oh, shut up, it’s all just wrong.”

“Agreed,” said Mitchell.

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Nina said. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m so knackered I won’t be able to keep my eyes open tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Mitchell said. “Talk more in the morning.”

“Mitchell,” said George.

“Yeah?” asked Mitchell, turning back.

“Try not to kill anyone while we’re sleeping?”

Mitchell felt a smile spread across his face.

“Good advice,” he said. “I’ll get on it.”

“Good,” George said.

“You’re both mental,” Nina grumbled and turned over, pulling the covers up around her.

Mitchell closed the door behind him and stepped down the hall to his own room. His bed was a mess, clothes and paper strewn all over the place. A half eaten pizza lay in its box on the floor. Mitchell stripped out of his jacket and shirt and jeans and got into the bed.

He was nervous about his plan, anxious to execute it, but worry and Nina’s words kept invading his thoughts. George’s face hovered in the air above his bed mingling with Annie’s frightened voice to complete the swamping of his senses. His warring emotions kept him company until the morning.

***

When George and Nina got to the hospital Nina found the perfect situation for Mitchell’s plan. George was against it, but she called Mitchell to the hospital, and when he got there she handed him a chart while George hovered nearby and then explained what Mitchell would see.

“One more thing,” she said. “I want one of us in there with you.”

“Why?” asked Mitchell.

“Death is a personal, private moment and we're gate-crashing,” she insisted. “I want that man treated with dignity and kindness.”

George put up a protest about doing this today, especially due to it being the full moon that night, but both Mitchell and Nina overruled him. It was one of those times where they were perfectly in sync. George didn’t know if he should be glad or annoyed about those moments, but either way he was very nervous about this happening today, afraid he would lose not just Annie but Mitchell as well. Despite Nina’s presence in his life, he just didn’t know if he could cope without them.

Nina left to go on her rounds, wishing Mitchell a cursory good luck.

George and Mitchell stood on either side of the hospital bed and George realized there would probably be hours of waiting ahead of them. Mitchell evidently had the same thought. The chair behind him had a crossword puzzle on it and he picked it up, as if looking for anything to take his mind off his task.

George sat silently until he couldn’t bear it anymore. There was a man dying next to him and he was just sitting there like a vulture, waiting for it to happen. He began to sing.

“What's that you're doing?” Mitchell asked sharply. 

The words were religious and Mitchell looked like he could feel them razor sharp against his skin. Normally anything to do with George and religion didn’t affect Mitchell but today they apparently were. George couldn’t bring himself to care. No matter how much he was confused about how to treat Mitchell, he was still furious with him.

“It's a prayer. It's Jewish," explained George.

"Yeah, I'm not great with religious rituals," Mitchell said.

George made a fake sympathy face.

"Tough," and he went back to it.

"Is he even Jewish?" Mitchell asked.

George rolled his eyes.

"It doesn't matter. His body's let him down, medicine's let him down. It's a gesture of sympathy."

“Well, don’t,” Mitchell said.

“That’s really sensitive, thanks, Mitchell,” said George, and then threw up his hands. “I’ve forgotten the rest now.”

“Thank God for small favors,” said Mitchell, going back to his puzzle.

He looked like his insides had taken a unanimous vote to switch living spaces inside of him and were currently moving all their belongings to areas that didn’t have enough room for them. George stared at him, studying him while Mitchell resolutely focused on his crossword puzzle.

“Are you frightened?” asked George after a minute.

“Naw,” said Mitchell, false bravado coloring his voice. “Whatever they’ve got, God, the devil, none of it frightens me.”

“I’m somehow so reassured,” said George.

“You’re not here to be reassured,” snapped Mitchell. “Just play watchdog like you’re supposed to.”

“What kind of order is that?” asked George. “Am I just some kind of lyco to you?”

“No,” said Mitchell, rubbing his forehead. “I just meant you’re in here cause Nina wants to keep an eye on me.”

“So now I’m just her kept man with no mind of my own,” said George.

“You’re twisting everything I say,” said Mitchell.

“Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” said George, folding his arms. “Mastered it decades ago, I wouldn’t wonder.”

Mitchell closed his eyes for a moment.

“Let’s just talk about something else,” he said. “Five letters. Something, a, something, something, something. The clue is the letters, h, i, j, k, l, m, n, o.”

“The answer's water,” said George. Mitchell stared at him for a moment. "It's the letters. H to O."

Mitchell pointed at him in triumph.

“That’s it.”

“Of course it’s it,” said George testily. After a few moments, he looked over. "Okay, give me another one.”

The monitor stopped beeping. Mitchell stood up.

"Is that it? Is he dead now?" 

He raised his head and looked toward the door that had appeared in the corner.

The man in the bed stood next to it, looking down at his body while George reassured him. He didn’t look very reassured. George gestured to Mitchell. If Mitchell was going to go with the man, then Mitchell needed to be the one to talk to him. 

“Sean, isn’t it? I’m here to help you on your way,” said Mitchell, evidently getting the hint, but not very good at doing anything about it.

"Are you…death?" Sean asked, looking him up and down.

"No," Mitchell said in a wounded tone. "No, I'm not death.”

“What happens next?”

“Nothing to worry about. You’re going on a journey,” said Mitchell.

George felt fear strike him, but he let Mitchell take over the situation. Either way, he wasn’t going to be able to control what happened next and if he wanted Annie back, he had to risk Mitchell to do it.

***

Mitchell clapped his hands together trying to show more bravado than he felt. It was like preparing to jump into an icy river, nothing could really prepare you for what lay beyond the jump. You just had to do it.

“Right, boys, let’s get going.” He strode over to the door, trying to keep the fear from overwhelming him, physically bracing himself for whatever might happen next. He grasped the door handle and was confused for a few seconds when it wouldn’t open. “Right,” he said, turning back around. “Yeah, you, uh, need to get that.” George glared at Mitchell, jerking his neck toward Sean, and Mitchell smiled as reassuringly as he could. “Uh, whenever you’re ready. No rush.”

Sean took a second and then walked to the door, putting his hand on the knob. When the door was opened and Sean had stepped through Mitchell turned to George, who shook his head and turned away.

Mitchell tapped his fingers on the door pondering what he could possibly say. If this was the end, if this was the bit where he had to let George go, then he wanted to say the right thing, to leave his friend with something good to remember him by.

"None of this was your fault," he finally said. "Anything that happened would have happened a lot sooner and a lot worse if I hadn't have met you."

“Just…just come back,” said George, his voice shaking, raising his arm for emphasis, still looking away.

Mitchell stepped through and he found himself in a long corridor stretching down endlessly in front of him. The wall behind him was blank but along the corridor on each side were doors. The dead man was nowhere to be seen.

“Corridor,” he said, “well, I guess I’m in the right spot.”

“That remains to be seen,” said a bright voice from beside him. “Mitchell, right?”

Mitchell turned sharply to see a young woman standing in front of him. She was beautiful with dark hair and was wearing a blue cardigan. She looked at him with eyes that were colder than her flirtatious smile. Something about her itched at the corners of his tired mind, but he didn’t have the brainpower to dwell on it.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Her face darkened for a moment before she smiled again.

“My name is Lia,” she said. “I understand you’re here for Annie?”

“Yes,” he said eagerly. “Do you know where I can find her?”

“Tut tut,” she said. “One would think a vampire would understand the inner workings of death a bit better than that.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“You’ve come to Purgatory,” she said, spreading her arms. “You can’t just expect to walk in and out without some kind of test, right? You’ll need a guide, by the way.” She pointed to herself and whispered, winking. “That’s me.”

He walked around, looking. The place was familiar.

"So this is Purgatory," he said. "I remember this."

"Well, strictly speaking it's your Purgatory," she said. "We've all got our own corridor filled with the good things and the bad.” She pointedly looked up and down the extensive hallway. “You've been busy."

“What do I need to do?” he asked.

“You might like a little tour,” she said, opening the door to his right and walking through.

Mitchell followed her warily and then stopped. It was a place he had never wanted to see again. His first kill.

“Don’t,” he said. “I don’t see what this has to do with Annie.”

He turned to go back through the door but the handle wouldn’t turn.

“Aww, but I’m so curious about it,” she said, patting the seat next to her where she was perched on the cot next to the man Mitchell had killed so many years ago. 

Arthur.

“It’s not important,” he said.

“I beg to differ,” Lia said. “After all, someone like John Mitchell isn’t made overnight. He’s got to start somewhere. Let’s start here and you tell me what happened.”

“Look, Annie isn’t here, so what’s the point?”

“This is a test, remember?” said Lia in a sing-song voice. “You’ve got to pass before you can get to Annie.”

He tried the door again before giving in and telling her in clipped words what had happened that night.

“Ah, so you wanted it to be painless,” she said in a soothing tone. “Just like slipping to sleep.”

“I didn’t want to do it at all,” said Mitchell. “I tried, but…the hunger. I thought I could control it, but I didn’t understand what had happened to me. In just four weeks everything I ever thought I knew about myself was tested.”

“You didn’t choose any of it anyway,” said Lia. “Right? You were trying to save your men.”

“I was,” he said brokenly, looking away from his old friend’s mutilated throat.

“So you’re just another victim. Just like Arthur here. The original victim, you might say, with your humanity stripped away from you,” Lia commented. "You know most people would have run into a minefield and ended it all. But you didn't. I think that's quite brave.” She paused and then asked suddenly. “So why didn't you?"

"I wasn't going to let it win," he said.

"Quite right," she said, getting up, but her tone didn’t sound as reassuring anymore.

He didn’t reply, trying to swallow back bile and tears. Suddenly the camp radio skipped and Annie’s voice sounded through it.

“Mitchell, please hurry, Mitchell!”

“Annie,” he cried, kneeling next to the table. “Annie, I’m here, I’m coming.”

"They're getting ready to move me. They're taking me to the room."

"Which room, Annie?" he asked. "There are all these doors. Which room?"

"There's going to be a parade. They're going to scatter ashes before me."

"I'm coming to get you, I swear I'm on my way," he said.

“They're coming!” she said in response. "They've got drums. They're cheering."

“That’s not gonna help,” said Lia, now standing next to the door which opened easily under her pull. “Come on. Spit spot.”

Mitchell reluctantly pulled away from the radio, now just spitting out white noise.

“If we’re going to do this,” he said, following Lia back into the corridor, “it’s gonna take too long. I don’t have the luxury of time that you apparently do. Stop messing about and just take me to whatever bloody door has Annie on the other side.”

“That’s the truth all right,” Lia said, winking at him. “We would be here quite a long time. John Mitchell cut quite the swath through the twentieth century. But relax, I’m here to help. Stop being so grouchy. Does nothing for your face. Brood if you like though, that’s actually quite sexy.”

Mitchell swallowed back a retort and tried to rein in some self-control. He wasn’t going to gain anything by antagonizing the one person he’d seen in Purgatory so far.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pasting his caricature smirk on his face, the one that usually got the girls to follow him home from the bar. “Just anxious to find her. I…” he paused, his thoughts catching up to his anxieties, “I think I do know you. Do we know each other?”

“H-12,” Lia said enigmatically.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a riddle. I love riddles.”

“Um, that’s all?” She smiled but remained silent. Mitchell sighed. “Okay…uh, lead on. It’s a good view from back here.”

Lia raised an eyebrow at him; her grin turning slightly primal as she deliberately turned and sashayed toward the next door down the hall.

“You’re mean not letting me ogle your ass instead,” she said.

They entered a hotel room, one like many he’d been in through his long life. He practically associated them with death, their walls splattered red, the sheets sticky instead of soft, the memory of their layout blurry in his hazy memories of the morning after, blood singing in his veins.

Sally lay on the floor beside the bed, her eyes open, staring at the ceiling, just like he remembered, the victims themselves never forgotten.

“Who’s this one?” Lia asked, spreading her hand across the sticky wall, but not actually touching it.

Mitchell told her, describing the night in detail, the clarity of being a month off of blood bringing with it the usual stabbing points of guilt.

“You have a good memory,” Lia said. “This is a bit different than last time though, isn’t it?”

“She’s still dead,” he muttered.

“No poison for her,” said Lia pointedly. “Had you run out?”

“It wasn’t about that anymore,” Mitchell said. “I had accepted being a vampire. I wanted the terror, the fear, the pain, the death.”

“Oh, I see,” Lia said. “So this was just the life of the vampire John Mitchell, the consequences of being what you are. Nothing to do with you.”

“I was drunk and the hunger…”

“You were in control enough to have sex,” she said. “Someone could look at this and think you enjoyed it.”

The telly in the corner flipped on and Annie’s face appeared.

“Mitchell, hurry!”

“Annie, I’m coming, I swear,” he said.

“You’re wasting time,” said Lia.

Before he could respond she had exited the room and he followed her since Annie’s face had vanished again.

They walked down the corridor a ways before he stopped cold in front of a door that seemed eerily familiar, sending a spike of fear through him.

“What door is this?” he asked.

Lia stopped but didn’t turn around.

“Your choice to go through it now,” she said. “I was saving it for last but we can skip to the end if you’re ready.” A loud scream echoed through the hallway and Mitchell jumped. It had sounded like Annie. “Looks like time is running out,” Lia said lazily. “You might want to take your final exam.” Mitchell stood in front of the door, his hand raised to open it, but it trembled and he couldn’t seem to make himself open the door. "You don't have to do this,” said Lia, sidling up beside him. “You could go back to George and your old life and say you tried to get Annie back but it was impossible.” Mitchell nodded, the idea sounding much more appealing than the paralyzing fear gripping his body, holding his brain in a frozen agony. His hand dropped. Lia put her arm on his, her voice dripping with sympathy. “They'll understand. It was brave of you to even try."

Mitchell shook his head, struck by sudden visions of the terror in Annie’s voice, the pain that had ripped through him when she was taken.

"No, I need to do this."

"Okay then. End of the line," Lia said, sliding the door open, her face grave and suddenly blank.

Mitchell followed her through.


	3. Chapter 3

George had been extremely frustrated all day long. The night before a full moon was always like that to some extent. It worried him because he kept remembering Tully’s words about how powerful he felt right before the moon. George did feel powerful. He felt strong and he felt confident. So naturally he also felt extremely anxious and nervous and self-conscious about those things, effectively ruining any gain he could have received from it. As usual he was his own worst enemy.

Then, to make matters worse, Mitchell had decided this was a great night to test death and journey to the other side and probably make everything worse. Deep down George wanted Annie back as much as Mitchell did but he had a much healthier fear of consequences than Mitchell.

There was a little voice inside of George that said if only nobody else put themselves in danger, if only they kept their heads down, if only now was the time when he finally didn’t have to run anymore. If…then, that’s what his life boiled down to now. 

George knew that Nina approved of Mitchell going not just because she wanted Annie back, but also because she wanted Mitchell gone. If he was just not in their lives anymore, stuck on some other side of the door, then she wouldn’t have to struggle with reconciling her relationship with him to the atrocities he’d committed. George could understand that. After all, sometimes he could barely stand to look at Mitchell. More often that guilt was redirected at himself for always feeling a stab of relief when he did look at Mitchell, because Annie might be gone, but George had gotten Mitchell back.

There were just too many emotions, too many things to feel, and they all contradicted themselves. Everything was heightened by the full moon’s proximity. He felt like he could jump out of his skin.

He sat with Mitchell by a deathbed and he alternated between being angry with Mitchell and wanting to prolong his departure for as long as possible.

The moment Mitchell actually left was the worst.

“None of this was your fault. Everything that happened would have happened a lot sooner and a lot worse if I hadn’t have met you.”

Mitchell’s departing words broke George and he could forgive him anything in that instant if only to have him back.

“Just…just come back,” was all he could say.

He stayed in Sean’s room for a long time, crying, trying to reconcile his feelings. It didn’t work, he just felt torn. But gradually, like the calm before a storm, he felt himself coming back together, realizing that no matter what he wanted or didn’t want, he would be changing in just a few hours and he had to prepare for that. He notified the doctors of Sean’s time of death and then went to find Nina.

He found her and she took one look at his red face and hugged him gently.

“I just don’t know what's going to happen,” he said.

“We’ll get through it, whatever it is,” she said. “You’ve still got me.”

“I am so thankful for you,” he said, bending to kiss her. “Now shall we go become hideous beasts?”

“You have the most romantic ideas,” she answered, and they quickly left the hospital and made their way home.

George gathered the bag he’d packed that morning and lingered at the door. They had decided that Nina should be the one to use the basement and so that meant he was forced to the woods. In the future they hoped to convert the attic into a giant cage, better suited to letting the wolf rage, but still keeping it as contained as the one George had in his room in the house in Bristol.

But for now he had to trust to mother nature and he winced at his own Tully reference. It always seemed to happen close to the moon coming. Sometimes he thought about how Tully must have died, alone in that chamber, but he tried not to. He alternated between feeling sorry for the man, and still being angry at what Tully had done.

Nevertheless, George regretted not plotting the woods out carefully enough before now. He should have known better, especially in Wales. But he’d only just started dragging his chicken on a string when the sound of sirens filled the air and he was suddenly surrounded by the police and arrested for dogging along with some other people just over the ridge.

The irony and the injustice of it was swamped by the overwhelming terror at knowing unless someone listened to him, he was going to kill someone and expose the world of the supernatural.

“You have to listen to me,” he shrieked, his voice reaching decibels he hadn’t thought possible before. “I have a serious medical condition, a medical condition! You have to let me out. Please, just let me phone someone, I’ll prove it to you, please.”

No one listened to him all the way back to the precinct and he was stuck inside a cell with someone else arrested for dogging. They let him have one phone call and, of course, he called Nina, but she must have already locked herself in the basement because she didn’t answer, and he didn’t have anyone else he could call, even if they would let him. He left a frantic message and then tried not to panic.

But there was no use. He looked into the face of the man he was going to kill and nearly bent double in pain as he felt the change come.

Dimly through the pain he heard Nina’s voice shouting.

"That man has serious mental problems, he's…basically nuts. And it's contagious!"

Her own voice sounded high pitched and frantic and he could only imagine what effort it must be costing her to sound even halfway normal.

"Maybe we should sort of let this lady have him,” said a man. 

“Yeah, I think that would be a good idea," Nina snapped.

“Time to go,” George heard another voice say.

George felt arms lifting him and he staggered away from murder to find Nina practically vibrating with tension as she scooped his belongings into his bag and then leaned in too close to a policeman’s face.

“You have not heard the last of this,” she promised before they bolted out of the police station and tried to find somewhere, anywhere, to be safe.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” George found himself repeating over and over as they ran.

"I only got your message because I went upstairs to use the toilet," Nina panted.

They passed a church, an entrance to some sort of underground tomb and George vaulted over the gate, catching Nina when she followed him.

It wasn’t suitable, not at all, but at least there appeared to be some kind of cell. 

"Inside there," he said. “You can transform in here.”

“What will you do?” Nina said.

“I don't know but we can't be together. We'll kill each other.”

“We don't have a choice,” said Nina.

George hesitated for a moment before finally joining her and slamming the gate closed.

He pulled his shirt off.

“I'm so sorry for all this.”

“I know,” Nina said, stripping as well. George panted with the effort of remaining upright. “I love you,” she said desperately, making it sound like goodbye.

He stopped, forcing himself to be and sound normal.

“I love you too,” he said firmly.

He kissed her. There wasn’t anything else to do but wait amidst the agonizing pain.

Perhaps Mitchell would get Annie back and it wouldn’t matter because George and Nina would be dead. Maybe Mitchell would come back all alone and then go off on a killing spree after he found out what had happened. Maybe George would kill Nina and wake up having to live with what he did.

He almost welcomed the physical pain and the mind numbing blackness.

There were the hazy thoughts he always had, some kind of anger, some kind of release and power, but this time, coupled with pleasure and possession, clearer than ever before.

His instincts were in charge and he didn’t remember anything until he blinked his eyes in the morning light, water dripping in his face. He lay for a moment, paralyzed with fear and confusion until he heard a voice.

“Loving that ass.” He sprang around and there was Nina, all dressed, leaning against the wall. “Hey, it's all right,” she said.

“We made it,” he said in exultation, running to her and hugging her.

“Yeah. It's okay, baby, we're okay,” she said reassuringly.

George felt happier than he had felt in months. There was always such a joy in knowing that for once something hadn’t gone wrong.

He turned to get dressed and then…stopped. There was something new, something he usually only…

“When we transformed, did we…?” he asked slowly, looking down and then looking at her.

She screwed her face up in thought and then her eyes widened. He smiled.

“Oh,” she said. He turned around again and grinned while getting dressed. “Nice,” she said behind him.

After examining the gate before they left George came to the conclusion that if their wolf selves hadn’t decided on a night long shag they would have had no problem in getting out and probably doing a lot of damage. Somehow they’d been saved.

George’s good mood lasted until they got home and Mitchell wasn’t there.

Nina watched his face fall and put her arm around him.

“I’m sure it takes time to do what he has to do,” she said. “We shouldn’t give up hope yet.”

“Do you really want him back?” George asked.

Nina didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“I want the old Mitchell back,” she said, “and I want you to be happy.”

George shuddered and then slung his bag onto the floor.

“You go ahead and shower,” he said. “I’ll go next.”

Nina kissed him again.

“We’re alive. Focus on that.”

“I do,” he said, but he heard her leave and put his head in his hands.

***

Mitchell stood in the train.

The aisle was narrow, the lights were flickering, and the smell of blood was in the air. Slowly he understood and closed his eyes against the memory, but there was nothing to block it out now that he was standing there. The bodies sat slumped in their seats where he had left them. The scene was vivid now, not bathed in the afterglow of a rush of blood.

He slowly walked down the aisle, the bodies – the people - getting up and walking behind him. They didn’t say a word, but he could feel the stares.

He felt cold, much more cold than normal, and he stopped at seat H-12.

Lia sat there, blood on her neck, puncture wounds evident. Mitchell said nothing, simply sat down in the seat across from her and waited. 

"I've got to say I was kind of hurt that you didn't recognize me. Given that you remembered so much about the other two.” Lia paused. “Guess you were a bit preoccupied that night."

That was evidently his cue to speak but there was only one thing he could say and he had neither the right nor the ability to say it, but he tried anyway, the words catching in his throat.

"I'm sorry."

Lia leaned forward, her face no longer in the least flirtatious or kind.

"What was that, I didn't catch it!"

"I'm sorry," he forced himself to say more clearly.

"Oh, you're sorry,” she said, her contempt palpable in her tone.

Mitchell was often confronted by the memory of his victims, often imagined their diatribes against him, but when actually faced with someone, it was far worse than he could have imagined and he didn’t want to dive too deeply into his guilt.

"I was angry, I couldn't help it,” he said, looking down. “The hunger, it just-"

She interrupted him, suddenly looking bored.

"Yeah, yeah, no control, it's a compulsion, blah, blah, blah. More on that later, but, first, let me introduce you to the guys. Your twelve good men, tried and true. Although there are twenty of us and nine are women, but I'll crack on,” she said, finally smiling again, but there was no warmth to it.

She leaned over the seat and introduced them all, Donna, Glenn, Mary. Mitchell felt their names and stories pounding into his skull, seeping in as surely as the smell of the blood that hung through the air, as enticing as it was revolting.

"Please, please stop,” he finally said, interrupting Lia before she could finish. If he heard one more name he would explode. “I don't know what I can say."

"Don't say anything,” said Lia, flopping into her seat, leaning forward angrily, “because every word that comes out of your mouth is an excuse. It's misdirection."

"I'm not trying to trick you,” Mitchell said honestly.

"Not us. You're lying to yourself."

"I'm trying to change," he offered weakly.

"How's that working out for you?" she asked.

He squirmed under her direct gaze, everything he could say sounding weak and pathetic. But he had to make the attempt anyway.

"You know, it wasn't just me anyway, it was Daisy-"

"Oh, you're doing it again,” Lia said, rolling her eyes. She jabbed her finger on the table. “I was twenty two. I had a peanut allergy, I wanted to be a vet, I had a little brother that I loved more than anything in the world. Those are the things that make a human being.” She grew quieter. “Do you taste them in our blood? The arrogance to call yourself a victim. How dare you insult us like that?"

"I didn't mean to insult you," he said.

"You were flirting with me," she accused.

"I just wanted you to like me," he said quietly.

"And there we have it. You want forgiveness every day. You get a smile from me and it proves you're not completely evil. You do a thousand small nice things and you put them against the bad.” She smiled cruelly. “You actually do the sums in your head, don't you?” When he didn’t respond she stopped talking for a moment before asking in exasperation. “Why did you come here? For Annie or for you?"

"For Annie," he said immediately.

That was the truth. Coming here, he’d known all along this would happen, something like this, and if there had been any way for him to hide from this, to keep this from ever happening, he would have. But he knew getting Annie back was worth the risk.

"Crossing into Purgatory, that's a big deposit in the good account."

"No, I just want Annie back," he said hotly.

She paused, considering that for a moment, and he could see her believe him. But that wasn’t enough.

"Which one of us does that wipe off the slate? Donna, Glenn, me?"

"None of you. I don't know what you want me to do,” he asked. “What purpose does this serve?”

"I want you to stop hiding," she said loudly.

"I'm not hiding."

She snorted

" ‘I'm a victim.’ ‘I'm better now.’ ‘Daisy made me do it,’ " she mimicked.

"I'm not-"

"You're not what?"

"A victim," he said quietly. 

He hadn’t believed that for a long time. It was her who had said that, not him.

"So you're what, what? Misunderstood?"

"I'm an animal,” he cried out. He was tired of this, tired of her stabbing words, her too keen insights, the way she refused to let him keep any of the tatters of comfort he’d gathered around himself. “I don't deserve mercy or forgiveness. I'm a murderer…I couldn't help myself. I loved it. The sensation, the power. I was dead,” he leaned forward, “but I never felt so alive. I wasn't human anymore. I lost my conscience, I was free, and that's what I was addicted to,” he said, realizing it for the first time. “I hacked my way through the world. I left a trail of blood a thousand miles long.” He paused, his voice cracking. “And I loved it. I'm a disease, I'm a plague. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said, tears finally spilling over.

When he looked up again the train was empty except for Lia standing next to him. She was looking more sympathetic again.

“Poor little fool,” she said. “You still don’t understand. I’ll try; I’ll really try to help you. No matter that you don’t deserve a shred of my sympathy.”

“What?” he asked, more confused than ever.

“Follow me,” she said, walking down the aisle, talking all the way. “I may be really new at this death thing, but I’m pretty sure I understand vampires better than you do.”

“What?” he asked again, feeling very stupid.

“Keep up,” she said mockingly. “You see, werewolves are different. There is a true split between them…for a while. It’s like another personality, one they have no control over. Eventually they start to merge, but the new werewolf, he’s just a victim.”

“I know vampires aren’t like that,” Mitchell said.

“Aren’t you the clever one,” she said, still mocking him. “But what you don’t understand is that a vampire’s true nature is not the monster, it’s the man. There’s a fusion at the moment of death. You might not be human, but you’re not not-human either. You’re…frozen.” She glanced back over her shoulder and he flinched, remembering Josie’s words. “You’re frozen at the very moment of death, usually the most agonizing and truth filled moment of a human being’s life. There’s nothing for it then because there are no more consequences. Everything you always wanted, dreamed of, never dared to let yourself do, it’s all yours for the taking. And the darkness in you, infused with vitality by the vampire, that darkness craves the blood, craves the freedom, craves the power. That is your true addiction, you’re right.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” he asked.

“See, it’s you, Mitchell, you’re free and you’re addicted. You still have the choice because blood addicts enable themselves. You were always a little emotional, weren’t you, and when you were turned that emotion had free reign. For years. Your emotions made you stop. And start. And stop again. On, off, on, off that wagon. It was your emotions that made you get on that train, your rage against humanity because there were a few of us who had reacted badly against the monsters in our midst. Can you blame us?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Those vampires were under your care. You were their vampire king and they died. Ivan saved your life. Such a noble deed for a vampire. You were trying to protect humanity from finding out the horrible truth and how did they thank you but by trying to get you to do their dirty work, by slaughtering you, by looking down on you.”

“It doesn’t justify-”

“It doesn’t,” she said, turning around and jabbing her finger in his chest. “I am explaining, not justifying.” They were at the back of the train. Lia smiled and stepped off the back of it into the darkness. Mitchell frowned and stepped after her. “It doesn’t justify this,” Lia’s voice said in the black.

Mitchell’s eyes adjusted and he was in a dark room, emergency lights buzzing with slight illumination only.

The smell of blood still hung heavily in the air and he swallowed his usual desire for it, made sharper through his indulgences of the month before.

They were in the facility Kemp had been holding George and Nina in. They were in the room just off the entrance Mitchell had entered through. The room where the men had been off duty, lounging on couches. He had locked the door behind him before killing them all.

There were more than twenty bodies in that room alone.

“Why did you bring me here?” Mitchell asked, knowing Lia couldn’t be far away.

“Tsk tsk,” Lia said, coming to stand by him. “That’s not very contrite. And here I thought we were getting to the real you. After all, this place certainly puts my little murder into perspective.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“This is the product of your hurt ego,” she said, gesturing to the bodies. “There has always been a part of you that believed Herrick, believed that people were cattle, believed that you were above it all now. You wanted to hurt humanity when you boarded that train for daring to turn against their predators, but I think it was mostly all natural instinct, the lashings of a wounded animal. This…this was all about you, your need for personal revenge, your betrayal at the hands of a human woman. Lucy did more damage than half a century under Herrick’s tutelage to the ravaged psyche of John Mitchell.”

“I don’t see what talking about this is good for,” he said, getting frustrated, not wanting to think about Lucy ever again.

“Well, tough, I’m not here to coddle you,” she said. “George may think differently in his heart, but you didn’t come here to save him. You came here to make Lucy pay for making a fool out of you, for destroying the good you’d worked so hard to bring about, the order you had instilled. You came here because she was going to be your salvation and instead she betrayed you.”

“Stop it,” Mitchell said, each word driving deeper into his guilt. “It doesn’t matter why, it’s done.”

“I admit I am curious why you didn’t kill her,” Lia said. “You went through all these people to get to her and then you didn’t finish the job.”

“Annie,” he whispered, trying not to relive the moment.

“Annie,” Lia said, realization flooding through her voice. “It’s always about Annie, isn’t it? I wonder why that is. I wonder if you know. I wonder if you’ll ever admit it. So…one woman was worth more than the other.”

“I felt like I was being unmade,” Mitchell admitted, lost in that moment. “Even so swamped by the blood lust, I could feel her and George, I knew they were safe. But then…she was just gone. The absence was like…nothing I’d ever felt.”

Mitchell closed his eyes against the memory of the pain and when he opened them he was seated in the train again.

"Budge up,” Lia said gently. Mitchell moved over to the other seat. She sat down next to him. “You can have Annie back…but there's a price."

Mitchell nodded. He’d been expecting that. He thought he could guess what she would ask and it did seem just. He was done going through the motions, fighting every second of every day, clinging to the shadows while the people around him walked in the light. He was so tired.

"I'll stay. I want you to take me to all my victims. I want to feel it, I want to suffer. I don't want to hide anymore. I just want her back."

"It's not that simple,” Lia said. She looked upwards as if waiting for something and then spoke again. “The time and cause of your death have already been set. But there are things that need to happen first. You see…you're the final piece in someone else's story and they need to complete their journey and in order to do that…they have to kill you."

"What?" he asked.

Volunteering to stay in Purgatory was one thing; being told you were going to be killed to fulfill someone else’s destiny was something different.

"You're going to be killed by a werewolf. A wolf-shaped bullet. Bang," Lia said, using her fingers to mime shooting a gun at his head.

He stared at her for a long moment.

"Who?"

She smiled again, getting up.

"We'll see you soon, Mitchell."

"You're letting me go?" he asked.

"Well, as punishments go it's pretty cruel and interesting, isn't it?" she asked. “To get back everything when you shouldn’t, to live knowing that the people you love know all your dirty secrets, to finally have to deal with the truth about yourself, to know and not know your death. Yes, I rather like this punishment.”

She walked toward the door.

Mitchell wanted to process this. He wanted time. He wanted oblivion. He wanted life. But most of all he wanted Annie so he got up and followed Lia back into the corridor.

There was nothing there. Mitchell waited, something telling him that was what he was supposed to do.

***

Annie stood, her back to the door, not wanting to see her doom come for her. It would be the Gray Man and the specters. The sounds of the parade kept getting nearer and nearer. She had been in the waiting room while she kept catching glimpses of Mitchell and knew he was here. Now she was in the room with the grating and knew that he had failed.

The door opened and closed behind her.

"Annie, isn't it? I'm Lia,” said a friendly voice behind her. Annie was instantly suspicious of someone new coming in. Especially someone who didn’t try to scare her right away. At the same time, she was nervous about what this new someone would do. If the time was come for her to go to hell, they certainly weren’t going to send someone nice. “Sorry about all this palaver,” said Lia. “It's been chaos here. Lots of people turning up early. Everyone's in a bit of a tizz.”

"You're going to take me to the room now,” Annie said, ignoring all the babble.

Lia sounded like Annie used to, once upon a time.

“Oh, you mean the parade? That was for my three o'clock. No, you're free to go."

“I don’t believe you,” said Annie.

“Why not? Don’t I have an honest face?”

“I was told I had a room.”

“You did, you do,” said Lia. “But that’s all changed now. You’re on the release list.”

“I can go. Really?” asked Annie, slowly starting to hope.

“Yeah. You will still be dead. I should make that clear,” Lia said, sitting on the bench and crossing her legs. “Your body…it's been over two years, nobody wants to see that.”

She laughed like that was a funny joke. Annie didn’t see what was so funny.

“And, um, will I come back here one day?” she asked. 

“Well, we all end up here eventually. Personally I’m rather sorry to see you go. Once you come back it'll be all Boggle and pina coladas twenty four seven.” Annie didn’t say anything, rather unsure of this rather random person she’d just met. There was something vulnerable and nice about Lia, but Annie was still uncertain. “Spit spot,” said Lia gently. “Mitchell's waiting.” That was all Annie needed to know and she couldn’t stop the smile. She turned to go. “Is anything going on between you guys?” Lia suddenly asked. Annie stopped short. “I mean, he came to Purgatory to find you. Puts my ex-boyfriend's tattoo into perspective.”

Annie turned around, feeling rather dizzy. 

“Just friends,” she said slowly.

“You'd be so adorable, you two,” Lia said encouragingly. “I could eat you up,” she whispered brightly.

Annie didn’t know what to make of that.

“I'm dead.”

“So is he.” Lia spread her arms behind her and leaned back on them. “I think it's meant to happen. I think…it's fate.”

Several things were happening inside Annie, fear and joy and confusion and hope and suspicion and doubt.

She didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted to be glad she was leaving and glad Mitchell was there. Mostly she was just curious.

“What happened to you, Lia?” Annie asked.

Lia didn’t say anything for a moment, looking off into the distance.

“A very bad thing.” Then she smiled again, the dark moment gone. “It's okay. My part of the story isn’t important. You’ll figure that out. We play the long game here.”

Annie stared for a moment and then nodded before rushing out the door.

She found herself in a bright light but there was a corridor and standing at the end was a dark figure, his back toward her.

She felt her face widen without any prompting at all.

“Mitchell,” she called. “Mitchell.” She ran toward him and he started toward her but she was faster and she threw her arms around him. He felt solid and safe and he wrapped his arms around her, clutching her to him. “You saved me,” she said.

“Oh, you saved me, too,” she heard him murmur into her shoulder.

She laughed and pulled back, looking at his face, running her hands over it. He smoothed her hair, rubbing her shoulders, as if to make sure she was really there.

“What happened?” she asked. “Was there like some kind of, I don't know, trade off?”

He hesitated for a second and then genuine joy shone on his face.

"Nothing. There was nothing. Mind games, that's all. I don't believe a word of it.”

She hugged him again, squeezing as tightly as she could, and he swung her around.

By the time she opened her eyes again it was bright and she pulled back from him, suddenly conscious of how close they were. It was too much with Lia’s words running in her mind.

She looked away and then frowned in confusion.

“Uh, where are we? This isn't Bristol.”

The sea was in front of her, gray and cloudy skies above a boardwalk.

Mitchell grimaced and then leaned back against the stone railing.

“No, that's the other thing, we sort of moved to Wales. Barry Island, to be exact.”

For a moment she was a little hurt and then confused.

“Why?”

His face darkened and she almost regretted asking.

“It’ll all make sense when we get home,” he said.

“Wales, huh?” she said, not wanting to push him. He nodded. “Oh, I wanna go back.”

“To Bristol?” he asked.

“No, to Purgatory,” she said, laughing.

He chuckled and she was filled with another burst of affection and giddiness. She launched herself into a hug again and he hugged her back, his chest reverberating with laughter and his hands running up and down her back.

They stayed that way for a quiet moment and then Mitchell figured out exactly where in Barry they were before leading her home.

Annie’s eyes widened as she looked at their new home. It was…different.

She and Mitchell went inside and Mitchell peeked through the windows into the kitchen before whispering in her ear. She grinned and nodded and rent-a-ghosted into the kitchen, grabbing the kettle and pouring into George’s empty mug.

George looked up at her, his face filled with tears, and she smiled broadly, her entire self brimming with how much at home she was so long as she had her boys.

George practically tackled her in a hug and Annie laughed as he went from asking her question after question to yelling at Mitchell for pulling such a stupid prank and then praising him for rescuing her and demanding he never do anything so dangerous again.

Annie looked over George’s shoulder as Mitchell looked at Nina hopefully and Nina finally smiled genuinely, walking over and hugging him. Annie was confused but glad because Mitchell looked happy.

When George finally let Annie go, she hugged Nina tightly and Nina whispered how very glad she was that Annie was back.

“We have a surprise for you,” Mitchell said after all the hugging finally stopped.

“For me?” asked Annie.

He grabbed her hand and ushered them all up the stairs. Mitchell made Annie stop at the top and George and Nina hurried by her while Mitchell put his hands over her eyes.

When she opened them again she was in a bedroom with a single armchair, so very close to the one she’d had in her room at Bristol. She laughed and sat in it, bouncing slightly.

Nina handed her a teapot and Annie grinned while Mitchell let his silly side out and George loudly suggested that they should have a party.

They all went downstairs and Mitchell spun her around as George put some music on. Mitchell finally let Annie stop spinning and she was facing a very bright Hawaiian-themed wall and he’d put a lei over her head.

She didn’t know how on earth this was better than Bristol but she let Mitchell try and convince her.

“It’s brilliant,” he insisted. “Look, you can surf in front of it.” 

He demonstrated.

George and Nina appeared, wearing very stupid straw hats that George said had been left lying around.

“I’ve got straws for drinks,” said Nina. “And umbrellas.”

“Annie’s uncertain about the surfing potential here,” said Mitchell to the other two.

“Well, Annie,” said George. “You’re more of a hula girl, aren’t you?”

“I did love to dance,” said Annie, letting herself get caught up in the excitement.

“Then come on,” said Mitchell, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the wall. “Come on, George, Nina. Let’s show her how it’s done.”

George laughed and pulled Nina toward the wall, keeping one arm around her and one in back of Mitchell. They all hula-ed to their heart’s content until Nina declared she couldn’t take herself seriously anymore. Mitchell grabbed bottles from behind the bar while everyone else sat down.

Annie let herself sit, just sit and stare around the room. She felt safe again. She didn’t want to think about what she’d left behind. This was where she belonged, even if she missed her little house. George and Nina kissed and laughed and Annie looked at Mitchell laughing at something George said.

Annie once again felt the contradiction of feeling alive when she was dead, but this was more than anything she’d ever felt while she’d lived. Mitchell caught her eye and smiled warmly and Annie thought she was probably blushing. She smiled back, letting her love for them all beam out. How good of them all to have come for her, to want her, to prepare a room for her. She was a part of their family, these wandering souls, broken people working for some kind of redemption or connection. Their little enclave of the lost. Outside the monsters prowled, but in this strange bed and breakfast, they were safe.

Their party went on for hours and it was the perfect homecoming until Annie finally started asking the questions she had about the time she had lost.

“What happened in Bristol?” she asked. “What happened to make Kemp come after you like that? Why are we in Wales?”

An instant tension filled the room and Annie grew afraid again.

George and Nina looked at Mitchell, George biting his lip.

“We don’t really have to go into all that now, do we?” asked Mitchell.

“No, I want to know,” said Annie, unsure why he wouldn’t just say.

“Mitchell, it’s time,” said George wearily.

“You knew it had to happen,” said Nina a little more harshly.

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on,” demanded Annie, alarmed that she appeared to be missing something.

Mitchell groaned and put his hands over his face. George and Nina just looked sad when Annie turned to them in a wordless request for an explanation.

“Do you remember how I acted in the kitchen? Back in Bristol?” Mitchell finally asked, without turning around.

“You were a first rate wanker,” said Annie. “You scared me.”

“I was…drunk at the time. Blood drunk, if you will.”

“You mean…”

“I mean I had just fallen off the wagon in the biggest way.”

“Mitchell,” Annie breathed in horror. “I guess I knew there was something wrong, you were so wrong, but I didn’t…”

Mitchell finally turned around and slowly pulled a folded up newspaper article out of his jacket pocket. It was clearly well-read, crinkled, faded. He held it out to her.

Annie took it with trembling hands and read about the massacre of the Box Tunnel Twenty.

She didn’t want to believe it. Mitchell had messed up from time to time, had turned Lauren shortly before Annie had met him, but he was good, even when he’d gone back to Herrick, he’d just been confused. He wouldn’t…he hadn’t…

“Annie?” Mitchell whispered.

“No,” she said. “No.” She flung the newspaper away from her and it swirled toward the floor, the printed words of his guilt floating this way and that before finally settling on the floor. “You can’t have!”

“Oh, but he did,” said Nina bitterly.

Annie found her confirmation in the anger on Nina’s face and the unbearable sadness on George’s.

“Let me explain,” said Mitchell and proceeded to do so, telling her about what he’d done - not just on the train, but at the facility when she had been taken and what happened since. If Annie had been able to speak she would have cut him off, every word he said stabbing her anew. “I was angry and I was wrong,” he ended, “and all I knew was that I had to get you back.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” she said numbly. “You should’ve told me before you brought me back.”

“Annie, saving you didn’t have anything to do with what I did.”

“No, because now I’m part of it!” she yelled, standing up. A car alarm went off outside. “Now I have to make a decision. It spreads, Mitchell. What you've done, it's contaminated us all."

"I'm sorry. Oh, Annie, I'm so sorry," he said, walking away from her, tears in his voice.

She was quiet for a long moment, turning over everything he said in her mind. She turned to George and Nina.

“Well, what…what do you say? You knew; how can you sit there so calmly?”

Annie broke down crying and then felt Nina’s warm arms surround her.

“We’re not calm,” Nina soothed. “We feel it too. We’ve just had more time than you. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. I’m so sorry.”

Annie cried for a long time and maybe if she’d thought about it she would have rent-a-ghosted to her new room or anywhere else, but she didn’t remember how. The longer she cried, the calmer she became, but still so very angry. That white-hot fury she’d felt with Kemp started to rise in her throat. She didn’t want to feel that way, it made her sick inside.

The light bulbs in the room exploded and the room went dark, lit only by the street lights outside.

Everyone else jumped but Annie stood tall and resolute.

"You turn yourself in. Give those families that comfort," she told Mitchell.

He sat down again and shook his head.

"I can't, Annie. I can't do that."

Her calm began to leave her, but not her resolution.

"You saved me,” she said, moving from where Nina and George stood by her to where Mitchell was sitting all alone, “so I know that there's still good in you. I know that the man I knew is still in there."

Mitchell sniffed and wiped at his face.

"Everything will be torn apart. The entire world! They can't know, they can't."

She could understand his fear and the part of her that was still so grateful to be away from the sterile horror of Purgatory wanted to honor his risk to save her.

"I'll go with you,” she said, kneeling next to him, taking his hands. George started to protest behind her but she ignored him. “Wherever they take you, I'll be with you. So you won't be alone."

Mitchell made a noise of protest and looked her in the eyes.

"Oh, Annie, it's not about fear or punishment. I want to be punished! But it can't happen like this."

"Mitchell, they were people's children,” she said, her voice quaking, then felt the anger again. “And you and Daisy-" she shouted, punching his arm, making him cry even harder. "This has to stop, Mitchell, please. And this is how."

Mitchell cried more than she’d ever seen a man cry before but he couldn’t change her mind.

"Why won't you understand? We can't be arrested," he said finally.

“You talk some sense into him,” said Annie, gesturing back to George and Nina.

To her surprise she saw that Nina was watching Mitchell with a contemplative look on her face and tears in her eyes. George was clutching at his glasses so hard Annie thought they might break.

“Annie,” he began, stopping when his voice broke. “Annie, we said the same thing but…think about what you’re asking him to do. The whole world set against those families?”

“What about the families of the men who died in the facility where we were held?” Nina asked. “We should hold them in consideration.”

“What about the families of everyone I’ve killed since I was made?” Mitchell said, not looking up from his head in his hands. “You can’t repay the things I’ve done. It’s impossible.”

“You don’t get to decide this,” Annie said sternly. “You don’t know what it would feel like for those people to know you were behind bars.”

“But they won’t feel peace,” Mitchell said, his voice steadier now. “Any justice, any comfort will be washed away in the onslaught of a flood of fear because now vampires exist in this world. You would be condemning them, not giving them peace.”

“You do not get to speak,” said Annie, angrier with him than she’d ever been.

Each word she said was punctuated with a door slamming somewhere upstairs.

“Annie, are you okay?” asked George timidly. “You’re doing the poltergeist thing again.”

“This is not about me,” she yelled and three more car alarms sounded on the street.

“The neighbors!” squealed George.

“Annie, Annie, you need to calm down,” said Nina, putting her arms around Annie. “Look, I was angry, too. I was so angry I tried to stake him. It’s not okay, none of this is. But…we’re all here, right? We all just got back together. You need time to adjust. I don’t know what happened while you were gone, but clearly it was awful. So, let’s walk away, come back at this fresh another time, okay?”

Annie nodded, her anger dissipating to be replaced by a bone weary sadness.

“You and I are not friends,” Annie told Mitchell sternly. “I have never been closer with anyone in my life, but you and I are no longer friends.”

He simply nodded, looking more defeated than she could have ever imagined. The loss of him hit her like a sledgehammer and if she’d needed to breathe she would have been hyperventilating. Suddenly she didn’t think she could bear this existence without him. Lia’s words ran through her head again and Annie realized that she really did love Mitchell. She could love him so much more deeply, but now…now that was all ruined. He had turned into someone she didn’t know, even though he was the same; but everything he’d done was right there, unable to be ignored or excused or turned away from. She wouldn’t be herself if she let his actions slide.

Annie walked up the stairs with Nina leaving Mitchell behind and George hovering in the hallway between.


	4. Chapter 4

Nina reflected that it was rather hard caring for someone who didn’t sleep when you needed to sleep yourself. She’d been attempting to stick close to Annie and help her through the readjustment period, but it was difficult. 

Annie had been constantly flip flopping through extremes of emotion and whatever had happened to her on the other side had left her skittish, flinching at sounds and peripheral movements. She was still chipper and optimistic but, somehow, hearing about Mitchell, or perhaps a combination of her ordeal and Mitchell, had left a hardness to Annie that Nina had never seen before. A hardness and a tendency to explode. George had finally given up complaining about buying new bulbs for the house. Well, almost - it was George, after all.

A month had passed and Annie still wasn’t speaking to Mitchell except through curt monosyllabic sentences when it was absolutely necessary. Mitchell was doing the only thing he’d ever done that Nina approved of and was staying away from Annie. 

In the meantime George was moping because his friends were at odds and Nina could see that George still hadn’t come to his own terms about Mitchell. Certainly Nina hadn’t. It was like the household was in some kind of holding pattern, waiting for a spark to either make it come to life again or burn it down. Personally Nina rather suspected the latter would happen. But she was a pessimist, always had been.

Nina found herself forced into the position of being the only sane person in a house of lunatics and wondering how she’d ever wound up connected with any of them. She was tired of being the person who made sure everyone else was okay. 

Annie’s arrival had seemed to set Mitchell back to where he’d been right after they left the facility. He’d obviously been pinning everything he had on getting her home and now that she was home, the only thing he had left was the fact that everyone he loved wasn’t sure they wanted to be around him and the knowledge of what he’d done.

George was wandering around the house when he wasn’t working, prone to long lie-ins in the morning, and not cooking, which meant Nina had to do it all since Annie certainly wasn’t in the mood to help. Every time Nina had tried to talk to him, George made some kind of excuse and so Nina gave up after awhile, wondering again if she’d made the right choice in staying with him.

Nina tried to be mature. She tried to support George, corral Annie, and watch Mitchell, but the burden of it all was suddenly too much the day she was forced to conclude she needed to take a pregnancy test.

She’d suspected for a few days, since just after her second transformation in Barry, but had put off the idea as impossible. She didn’t get pregnant; she always took every precaution against it short of actual abstinence. The very idea of having a baby was…inconceivable to her. No pun intended.

But it was true. She took the test and as soon as she saw the plus sign she was instantly sick, heaving over the toilet, praying to a God she’d never believed in that the results were wrong. But they weren’t, not for that test or the next or the next. She was pregnant.

Just saying the word was impossible, let alone telling George. It took Nina a few minutes to figure out when it had happened and that brought a whole new level of terror into the equation. Yet for once the horror of the wolf was secondary to the horror of the whole situation. Nina knew she wouldn’t be able to deal with this, even if everything in her life was perfect; there was no way she could let it happen because it was her worst fear and brought to life everything she’d been running from her whole life.

Just looking at herself in the mirror made her feel sick again. She didn’t understand how she was pregnant, how having sex as the wolf had affected her birth control, how she could possibly be showing signs this soon? But in the end, no matter how it had happened…she was carrying a child inside her. Maybe a monster, maybe not, but either way it was a child. And that meant she was a mother.

She retched again.

Morality and situational reasons aside, Nina just could not let this happen. That meant she couldn’t tell George. He would freak out if he knew, of course, but Nina knew him well enough to know the end result would be a proud and pleased father-to-be and she couldn’t handle having to take that away from him.

She tossed the latest stick and put on some makeup. She’d have to make a plan, but for now, she needed to figure out what Annie was doing. Annie was doing a lot better, but Nina still tried to check on her a few times a day. The…condition Nina was in would be forgotten, it wasn’t even a problem anymore. She had to work, she had to cheer up George, and keep Annie comfortable. After that, well, anything after that was something Nina would put off for another day because if she tried to deal with it all now she would explode. 

***

Annie sat at the bar counter idly flipping through the paper. She was trying to get caught up on recent events, but no matter how hard she tried not to, she just kept grabbing onto anything that mentioned the Box Tunnel Twenty. She could hardly be blamed for that considering what she knew about it. 

She was trying not to think about it, but she couldn’t help it. She was sickened in her very soul. How anyone could do such a thing, she just couldn’t imagine it. The blood, the stench, the horror, it was all too foreign to her. Perhaps the most uncomfortable part of it was that every time she tried to picture what they must have felt before Mitchell ripped their lives from them, all she could hear was the sound of Kemp’s voice as she dragged him into hell.

But best not to think about that. Best not to think about anything connected to Purgatory. The sounds and the visuals and the memories made her shudder and generally something exploded. She didn’t know if ghosts got PTSD or anything like that, but if they did, then she had it. Everything made her nervous and she had stayed inside the house, mostly inside her room. This was the first time she’d been downstairs in weeks. Definitely the first time she’d let herself be around a radio or a television, too afraid she’d be sucked back into that nothing world of horror. 

Thank God for Nina and her constant care. Annie was glad to have a best friend back, but Nina was the only one she really did have back. George was quite clearly unhappy about the rift in the household and Mitchell was staying far away from Annie, which, in her angrier moments, made her happy, but was still so very different from what their lives had been like before. Mitchell had been a support and a comfort, a source of knowledge and strength that she hadn’t realized she’d depended on so deeply.

Now that it was gone, she missed its presence and was angry with him for destroying everything.

The telly flickered and static filled the screen. Annie practically flung herself backward from the counter and was about to yell for help when she heard the voice.

“Hey, Annie.” Annie jumped. “Hi ya,” said Lia, waving, her figure coming into view out of the static, sitting on a bed.

“Lia?” Annie breathed in fright. “What…what are you doing?”

“Can’t a girl call to catch up?” Lia asked innocently. She wreathed her hands on her knee and leaned forward. “What’s new?”

“Um…not much,” said Annie automatically, busy trying to still her frantic fear. “How are you?”

“Still dead,” Lia said, laughing. “But then you knew that. How’s Mitchell? Anything going on yet?”

That instantly put Annie’s guard up.

“Why do you care?” she asked. 

“Oh, haven’t you worked it out yet?” Lia said, frowning slightly. “I mean, surely Mitchell told you about me? Or you saw my picture?”

That cinched it and Annie felt nauseated. Or as nauseated as a ghost could feel.

“You…you’re one of…you were on the train,” Annie said.

It wasn’t that hard to work out.

“Bingo,” Lia said, cocking her fingers at the screen. “H-12.”

“But why would you encourage me to…” Annie trailed off, unable to even finish the sentence.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Lia said, “I’ve got no love for Mitchell. There’s some rage there, definitely. But you…oh, Annie, how could anyone not love you? I may be new here, but I’m a quick study, and I see what everyone’s always saying about you.”

“What do they say about me?” asked Annie. “And what does this have to do with Mitchell?”

“Slow down, you’ll hurt yourself,” said Lia. “All good things, I promise. Well, not about Mitchell. They can’t wait for you to come home, though.”

“Then why did they let me leave?” demanded Annie.

She was starting to feel very confused and more than a little bit angry. The lights in the kitchen began to flicker but she barely noticed.

“Maybe I should start at the beginning,” said Lia.

“Maybe you’d better.”

“You’re a very unique individual,” Lia began, leaning back on her hands. “Now…plenty of people have turned down their door. If Mitchell told you different, he was lying. But there was always a reason. Take your friend Sykes for instance.”

“How did you…?”

Lia laid a finger to the side of her nose and winked.

“Quick study. Anyway…people are quite understandably afraid of what’s behind the door. Even if they’ve resolved their unfinished business sometimes there’s guilt or fear and they hold back from crossing over. We’re patient with them, we’ve got time. After all, we want everyone to feel ready. Sometimes strong measures have to be taken; Sykes is quite stubborn, after all. But those are very rare instances.”

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with me,” Annie said. “Why did they keep coming after me and why did they let me go?”

“You are different because, Annie, you’re the only one who’s ever turned down the door for love.”

“But I’m not in-”

“Oh, come off it,” said Lia. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Whether you’re in love with him or not, you do love him. You turned down your door for him.”

“He was dying!” Annie said.

“Yeah, but what could you do about it? George told you to go. You turned down death. What’s more, you kept turning down death. It wasn’t just a split second decision based on a frantic situation, you wanted to stay because you loved them more than you loved the idea of passing over.”

“Well, so what?”

“That’s not the way things are done,” Lia said brightly. “You caused a bit of a tizzy, I’m afraid. Drastic measures had to be taken.”

“You had me,” Annie said. “You had me, so why bother letting me go?” 

“Maybe you didn’t read the forms you filled out very carefully,” said Lia, “but you weren’t exactly processed properly. You were dragged through and not even at our behest. It was forced, not by you, not by us, and that cocks everything up a bit.”

“So…you released me so you could drag me back?”

“Well, new developments and all that. See…there’s Mitchell to deal with. He gave us an excuse really, to send you back, but now there’s the whole prophecy thing that has to unfold. Paperwork, I tell you.”

“What prophecy?” Annie asked sharply.

Lia grinned, showing her teeth. 

“What? He didn’t tell you? Well, well, well.”

“What prophecy?” Annie asked again.

“No can do, I’m afraid,” Lia said. “That’s not for me to give away. Confidentiality in death and all that. But still…here’s a bit of a tip for you. Don’t let him keep secrets. Make him invite you in.”

Annie had been listening with rising horror and Lia’s hard words, spoken so lightly, were enough to make Annie reach her limits.

“Stop that,” Annie said. “I’ve had it with all of you. You never make any sense.” Doors banged open and closed around her but Annie wasn’t paying attention anymore. “What I feel about Mitchell is my own business. If I want to stay on this side of the door, that’s my own business. I don’t know you and I don’t appreciate you acting like we’re best mates. Just stay away from me and from him. I’m so sorry for what he did to you, so sorry, but I don’t like your bloody interference.”

The light bulbs in the kitchen burst. Then the light bulbs in the bar.

“There’s my Annie,” Lia said, smiling broadly, and the telly went dark.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Mitchell, George, and Nina ran into the room.

“What’s going on?” George asked. “Are we under attack? Oh, I just changed those,” he bemoaned when he saw the shards of the light bulbs on the counter.

“You!” Annie said, jabbing a finger into Mitchell’s chest. He stepped back under her onslaught. “Prophecy. Spill now.”

George and Nina turned to look at him and Mitchell blanched.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “What prophecy?”

“It’s nothing, but you don’t know anything about it?” Nina queried sarcastically.

“I- it’s nothing,” said Mitchell.

“If you don’t tell me everything right now,” Annie said, “I will drag your ass back to hell and leave you there to rot.”

“Can she do that?” George whispered, to no one in particular.

Mitchell swallowed and held up his hands in surrender.

Annie found it difficult to look at him. He was just the same as he had always been; his yellow shirt so similar to the one he used to wear back in Bristol. His hair was longer now and she almost wished she could nag him about getting it cut the way she used to. His gloves were getting old and she remembered how she was going to have George get him a new pair. Each memory was painful now that she’d cut him off.

Annie swallowed and spoke more calmly.

“I saw Lia just now.” Mitchell flinched. “Yes, Mitchell, one of your victims. She was the one who let me go.”

“Or was told to let you go,” said Mitchell.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Annie. “She assumed you had told me all about a little prophecy that was given to you while you were there. Please elaborate.”

Mitchell ruffled his hair with one hand.

“It’s just mind games,” he said. “What she said doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” said Annie.

“It’s no one’s business,” he protested.

“When you boarded that train you made everything you do everyone’s business,” Annie said icily.

“She told me I’m going to die,” said Mitchell loudly and quickly.

The three of them looked at him for a moment, his words dying into a blank void of silence.

“Oh,” said Annie, not quite sure how that fit into everything she’d been thinking before.

“Someone is going to kill me,” said Mitchell wearily, evidently giving in to the need for full disclosure. “A-a…werewolf.”

“What?” gasped George.

“What?” asked Nina, looking interested.

“Did you want to volunteer?” Mitchell asked archly.

“I’ll let you know,” said Nina, studying Mitchell with narrowed eyes.

“That’s literally it,” said Mitchell. “I thought I was going to stay in Purgatory in order for Annie to come back, but Lia said I was a piece in someone else’s journey. That my true punishment was getting back my life only to lose it. Everyone happy now?”

“You bastard,” said George. “You promised to come back.”

“I couldn’t know what was going to happen,” protested Mitchell. “None of this would be my choice.”

“This is all your choice,” said Nina. “If you hadn’t played vampire overlord and gotten involved with Lucy and made Annie feel so neglected…”

“Well, I know someone who accepted Kemp’s offer to de-werewolf themselves,” Mitchell shot back. Nina flinched and a look of pain crossed her face. “There’s no point in playing a ‘what if’ game. We all made choices that landed us here.”

“Someone most of all,” said Nina.

“I know it’s my fault,” Mitchell shouted. “I can only move on from here, but you’re not exactly helping.”

“He’s right,” said Annie, and everyone looked at her in surprise. “I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do, but until then there’s no use fighting about it. Thank you for explaining,” she said and rent-a-ghosted to her room.

***

“Who died and made her leader?” asked George, left staring at the spot Annie had left.

“She’s got every right to be angry, George,” Mitchell said wearily.

“No, I’ve got every right to be angry,” said George. “Just for once it would be nice if everything didn’t revolve around you being evil or how Annie’s going to react to something.”

George stomped into the front room. Nina and Mitchell exchanged glances.

“You know what, I don’t want to deal with it,” said Nina. “I’m just a visitor in this loony bin anyway.”

“Are you?” asked Mitchell. Nina opened her mouth but he kept on talking. “Maybe you could talk to Annie later,” Mitchell suggested. “Not about being nice to me or anything like that, just…help her.”

“In case you haven’t noticed that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. _I_ never stopped being her friend,” Nina said cuttingly. She pointed toward the front room. “But you might want to see if you can salvage at least one of your relationships.”

“Right,” muttered Mitchell and followed George.

***

George was thrilled to death about having Annie back, but somehow it hadn’t fixed everything like he’d foolishly been hoping it would. The first few hours had been magical, a perfect blend of love and friendship and family and hula dancing. Everything George had ever wanted out of life, really.

Then Annie had found out and George’s illusions of everything going back to normal were shattered. Of course, he should have expected it and he had just been putting off the inevitable. He’d been so consumed with needing Annie and Mitchell and their little circle, but the circle was broken even if they were all living under the same roof again. With Annie decidedly against Mitchell, he had to really face Mitchell’s choices and decide if he, George Sands, could live with them.

Nina’s words kept running uncomfortably in his mind. She had asked him, if it weren’t for the Box Tunnel Twenty would George still be horrified by Mitchell’s killings? George didn’t want to answer that question because he had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t have cared so much. He didn’t like it, that went without saying, but he could understand Mitchell’s rage at what Kemp had done and he’d felt a little murderous himself. In fact, it had taken Mitchell being so out of control to help George retain his own. Should he be thanking Mitchell for being a homicidal maniac so long as George’s rage got to live vicariously through him?

It was bad, the whole situation was just wrong. His life was a twisted mess and he was so sick of it, sick of having to make these kinds of choices. Three years ago he’d been happy. He’d been in a relationship, he’d had loving parents, and he’d been on a fast career path. One lousy trip to Scotland and now George was a monster in the company of monsters, and he had to decide if keeping his best friend was worth the black mark on his soul he would receive.

Now this prophecy nonsense had come out and George tried to figure it in to his equations of his feelings for Mitchell. The idea that Mitchell would die, no matter what he’d done, filled George with dread, because as nonsensical as it might sound, a world without Mitchell didn’t feel safe. Then there was the werewolf factor; as far as George knew, the only werewolves Mitchell hung out with regularly were him and Nina. The idea that either of them would kill him made George feel sick, even if Mitchell deserved it.

“Do you want to talk?” came Mitchell’s voice from behind him.

“What do you want to talk about?” George asked dully.

“How are you doing?” Mitchell asked.

“Not well. You?”

“Also not well.”

“There we have it then. That’s the extent of how far these talks usually go,” said George.

“Maybe Annie’s right and we need to talk more,” said Mitchell.

“Maybe Annie’s gone Casper crazy and we shouldn’t listen to her,” snapped George.

“Don’t be mad at Annie,” pleaded Mitchell. “You know that this is all because of me, so don’t blame her.”

“I’ll do what I like,” said George. “I’m not mad at her anyway,” he said, sighing. “I just wish…when she’d come back, it could have gone back to the way it was.”

Mitchell nodded.

“I know the feeling.”

“But everything’s backwards,” said George. “You’ve put me in a very difficult position.”

“I know.”

“So I have to decide if you’re worth it.”

“Worth it?”

“Worth giving up my soul.”

“Then I’m not, without question,” said Mitchell, frowning.

George laughed bitterly and flopped on the couch.

“See, there you go again. It’s when you say things like that…that I think you are.”

“I know I sometimes act…noble, George, and I’ve done my best to hide the darkness inside of me, but I had to face things in Purgatory. What Lia showed me…I’m not a good person.”

“I looked up to you,” said George.

“I know.”

“It was so…nice, to have somebody look at me and know me,” said George, rubbing his temples. “Someone who knew what the hell was going on. I didn’t feel so alone.”

“Same here,” said Mitchell. “It was good not to be alone.”

“Now I feel very alone,” said George matter-of-factly.

“You’ve got Nina,” said Mitchell. “Plus…no matter what happens to me, Annie’s back.”

“You were the first,” George said. “The first person to…see me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop being so sorry,” said George, leaning back and closing his eyes. “It’s getting monotonous.”

“My apologies,” said Mitchell.

George had to laugh at that.

“So, go on then, tell me why you’re such a bad person,” he said. “Convince me to give you up and turn my back on you.”

“That’s a cruel thing to ask anyone,” said Mitchell.

“You’ve slaughtered thousands; I think you can deal with it.”

“It’s not so simple,” said Mitchell, sitting on the coffee table, facing George. “Evil isn’t something that you just wake up to. I mean, I literally woke up to it, but the vampire I became was something that had more to do with my life as a human than I thought. At least I think that’s what Lia was trying to say.”

“There you go again with the Lia. Who the hell is Lia?”

“She was on the train. H-12. She was my guide on the other side and she let Annie go.”

George nodded his understanding.

“Go on.”

“We, all of us…” Mitchell paused. “Every person is a shadow of their true self. There’s a core to each of us and I don’t think those cores are very good. People like to talk about how they’re essentially a good person, but I say that’s crap. Being a human doesn’t make you good. Maybe there’s more to religion than we think because we’re all basically screwed up versions of who we could be.” Mitchell sighed and rubbed his temple. “But every once in a while there are truly good people. You’ve got the Annies of this world with their beautiful and powerful souls. You’ve got the Ninas, courageous and honest souls. Most of us are more mixed bags like you. Open and loyal, fearful and angry souls. But some of us are just nasty bits of works. People like me with arrogant and hungry souls.” 

“That was really beautiful right up until you got to the end,” said George.

“I think that might be the story of my life,” said Mitchell thoughtfully.

George had to laugh again.

“Do you have a point to go along with the poetry?” he asked.

Mitchell’s gaze darkened and he lowered himself to the floor beside the couch, maybe so he wouldn’t have to look George in the face.

“Becoming a vampire…isn’t really like dying. There’s a reason we refer to it as being made. You feel new, you have all the same parts but they’re better. You’re stronger, faster; you don’t get sick or old. It’s just…better. But there’s a price. You don’t understand the change until it’s too late. It’s different for everyone but maybe in the end it will all be the same, I don’t know.”

George listened carefully because it was very seldom Mitchell would talk about anything connected to vampires in such an intimate fashion. He normally liked to brush things aside, make general statements, and change the subject.

“What does that have to do with it?” George asked cautiously, not wanting Mitchell to shut down. “What’s the price?”

“Your core self is still there but it’s been revamped too. It’s stronger and faster. If you were someone like me, it would magnify all those bad things. I was an arrogant bastard who thought he could save the world, thought it was his responsibility. Hell, I still do.”

“You gave your life for your men.”

“And some might call that noble, but what was I thinking? I started my life as a vampire with pride. Everything I always hid or was ashamed of or wanted not to be was suddenly amplified. Any resistance I put up to squelch my true self was quickly negated by the hunger, the lure of power and freedom. Oh, it was so intoxicating, George. I could literally do anything. There was a war on, blood and carnage raised me, and it taught me how to be a vampire.”

George tried not to be disgusted by the nostalgic tone Mitchell was using. It was hard, but he concentrated on the despair in Mitchell’s words instead.

“What made you stop?” George asked. “I mean, really stop.”

“A woman,” said Mitchell, flashing a vague smile and George remembered how Mitchell had looked after Josie had given her life for him. “Mostly. It came on slowly, in those moments right after someone died, or the longer periods between killing someone. Once I…I realized what it meant I tried to turn those bits of me into something else. Then I tried to save humanity, tried to redeem the vampires, tried to keep myself from falling into the darkness. But…I might just be doomed to fail.”

“I won’t let you,” said George calmly. 

It was quite easy to make up his mind really. Or at least give the trial in his head a recess. George wanted to understand Mitchell, to understand his struggle. Besides, if Mitchell was going to…well, Mitchell wasn’t going to die and George certainly wasn’t going to let him die from having given up.

“George,” Mitchell started.

“Nope, I’ve decided,” said George. “You are my friend and you need saving.”

“Don’t throw away your life because of me.”

“Don’t tell me which parts of my life I can have and which I can’t. I don’t deny there will be times when I will want to chuck you out the door, but then…there’s always been times like that, you useless, lazy slob.”

“Hey!”

“Did the washing up only once that I can recall. And you were in a rage at the time.”

“It’s bad for my image,” said Mitchell and George was schooled enough in Mitchell’s moods to know that Mitchell was relieved. 

“Your image doesn’t need any more enhancing, believe me,” said George.

“George,” said Mitchell.

“What?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re on your own with the girls,” said George. “There will be many more talks. You don’t get to keep things to yourself anymore. I’m furious with you for not telling me you were gonna…you know. You’re on, on…temp status.” Mitchell rolled his eyes and gave George a mock salute before getting up and leaving. “You’re welcome,” George called after his retreating back.

When George went upstairs and went into their bedroom, Nina was already in there, getting ready for her shift. She was leaning against the vanity, holding her stomach.

“George,” she said, straightening up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, frowning.

“He won, didn’t he?” Nina asked, looking at George’s face.

“It was never supposed to be a competition,” George said slowly. “Are you unhappy?”

“Surprisingly not,” she answered briskly, continuing putting her hair up. “I want you to be happy, that’s all.”

“I want us all to be happy.”

“Just be prepared that someday you might not get that option,” Nina said gently, kissing his cheek before slipping out the door.

George stood for a few moments, hoping that would not be the case.


	5. Chapter 5

Annie felt stifled in their new house. She’d been hiding there for a month and she thought she might scream if she kept looking at that stupid mural wall that had made her so happy the night she’d gotten back. She might as well go out and explore Barry since it seemed unlikely she was ever going to be able to live in her dear little pink house again. Owen’s parents had probably sold it by now. She wondered about her safety sometimes. Mitchell had said the house was what bound her to life. Well, that and him and George. She wasn’t feeling very connected to either of them at the moment. Why did she feel so solid? She still couldn’t be seen by humans. She should have asked Lia about that.

It seemed like every time she got a handle on being dead, something happened to shut down her equilibrium. It was very annoying. Everything was slightly different. Her senses were sharper somehow, like she was almost having psychosomatic physical responses. Her poltergeist powers were back and stronger than ever but she was having difficulty controlling them. Her emotions were over the top all the time, and that made it harder. 

She liked the sensation, though, for some reason. Every time she managed to make something happen it was like she was restoring a bit of order back into her life. Besides, it was quite clear that without her things had gone to hell. Mitchell was wandering around the house like…a ghost, George was moping, Nina was seething. They’d moved to Wales! Clearly, Annie was needed to put them all back together again. Now that she was feeling slightly more secure, it was definitely up to her to figure out what to do. Somehow, Lia’s little ghost call had jolted Annie back from whatever limbo she’d placed herself in. Instead of being scared and angry all the time, she was simply determined. Things were terrible around her, so she was going to fix them.

Barry wasn’t that bad, though. The sea was lovely and her nightly prowls were quickly serving to make her very acquainted with the town. She enjoyed being by herself, feeling like for once she was taking control of her existence. She still wasn’t sure what to do about Mitchell and she was angry and hurt, but the more the days passed, the harder it was to maintain the righteous anger she’d felt. She didn’t want to become desensitized to the atrocities he’d committed, she never wanted that. But she missed him. 

She hated him for making her life like this. She was going to hate him forever. Most days she was going to hate him forever. In her more logical moments she realized that out of the four people she’d aligned herself with, Mitchell was the one with immortality. Eventually George and Nina would be gone and then what would Annie do if she shunned Mitchell? Could she be as selfish as that? To put aside those people’s lives because she was lonely? Then again…Mitchell might die soon. Annie refused to think about that for the most part. She couldn’t let it influence her feelings and the need to make a decision about forgiving him or not.

She thought about it on her walks. At least she thought about it when she wasn’t being accosted by drunk girls who happened to be dead and who happened to look like they were rotting from the inside out.

Annie ran, completely forgetting how to do anything but that, all the way home. When she reached the bed and breakfast she rent-a-ghosted inside, once she remembered she could, surprising George and Mitchell in the living room.

She didn’t even stop to think about how to react to Mitchell, she hadn’t talked to him properly in weeks, but right now there were other things on her mind.

"Guys, I'm in trouble. There's a dead woman after me."

"What happened?” asked Mitchell, standing up, looking awkward. “Are you okay?"

Annie answered in a rush.

"I was walking past this club, anyway, this dead woman got thrown out of the club, but-but she could see me." A banging sounded on the front door. "And she followed me home."

"Why didn't you just rent-a-ghost home?" asked Mitchell.

She wasn’t in the mood for him to act superior.

"Well, that would be, that would be…because I was under a lot of pressure, okay!"

Mitchell moved out to look through the door.

George got up, looking weary.

"I just got up for a pee.”

"I know you're in there. Snobby cow!" yelled the woman from outside.

"What have we got?" asked George, moving to join Mitchell.

"A drunk, dead woman. Shouting," replied Mitchell.

"That's not a ghost, I can smell her," said George, suddenly sniffing the air and wrinkling his nose.

"What? From here?" asked Mitchell.

"Oh yeah, even without the whole wolf thing."

"Well, of course you can smell her. She's got a body," Annie said. They looked at her. "I'm sure I mentioned that."

"So she's dead, but she's got a body,” said Mitchell as if trying to work that out in his head.

"She's rotting," said George in disgust.

"This is not good," said Mitchell.

"That's why I was so scared,” said Annie. “If she was just dead dead, no problem, but that is just weird."

"Hold on, hold on a second here. I think she's gone,” whispered Mitchell.

He crept toward the door. Annie and George waited behind. Slowly Mitchell pulled open the door, letting the chain slide to its full length.

Suddenly the woman screeched and sprang at the door.

George and Annie shrieked and Mitchell yelled, slamming the door shut.

"I thought we were supposed to be the scary ones,” George said, once he’d stopped looking like he was having a heart attack.

"Cars are slowing down. I think people can see her!" said Mitchell, his voice rising in panic.

"Well, of course they can see her, she's. Got. A. Body!" Annie said, grabbing the wall and jerking toward it for emphasis.

"Well, we've got to let her in," said Mitchell.

"What!" asked George and Annie in unison.

"We have a shouting, pissed corpse on our doorstep!"

"Right, and you want a shouting, pissed corpse inside?" asked George.

"She's gonna draw attention to the house, to us,” said Mitchell, sounding annoyed. “What if someone calls the police, huh?"

“Oh, yes, not the police,” said Annie. “We wouldn’t want anyone to actually pay for their crimes, would we?”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Mitchell. “If I ever turned myself in, I certainly would do it far away from the rest of you.”

Annie stopped and looked at him, forgetting about the corpse for a second. He wasn’t looking at her, pressed against the door.

“It would be a bad thing if the cops showed up, Annie,” said George.

"Well, she stopped shouting," said Mitchell.

"What's she doing now?" asked George.

"Crying. I think. And then…just sitting. But she's still quite loud."

"She stinks," said George.

Annie sighed and moved to open the door. Cautiously she stuck her head out and then tip toed out to the sobbing dead woman.

“Um, um, would you like some tea?"

Pretty much Annie’s default solution for any situation, but what else could she do? Mitchell had made his case well and Annie had been the one to bring this problem home.

The woman beamed and practically ran into the house. George turned away to keep his gagging from showing. They sat her down in the front room. George and Mitchell sat on the sofa facing her. She was wearing what looked like hospital scrubs, wrapped around her in a sarong style, her shoes were too big for her and clearly displayed her rotting toes.

It didn’t take long for Nina to come downstairs to see what all the commotion was about. Instantly she put her hand to her nose, sat down next to Mitchell on the couch, and delicately asked a question.

"George?"

"Dead woman,” whispered George. “With a body. Followed Annie home."

Nina nodded.

“Of course.”

"So then, what do we call you?" asked Mitchell to the dead woman.

"Anything you like, sweetheart," she said with such a grotesque parody of flirtation that it was obvious George was about to be sick and not just from the smell.

Mitchell seemed to do his best to smile politely. Annie felt an irrational spike of anger but pushed it down.

"Well, um, I'm Mitchell," he said, holding his hand out.

"Hi, Mitchell. I'm Sasha,” she said, jerking upright like a puppet on strings, extending a hand. “Like the Beyonce album."

Mitchell took her hand gingerly.

"I'm, I'm Nina," Nina said, standing up.

"My gran was called Nina!” said Sasha. “Oh, aren't you short?"

"Um, that's a beautiful dress, Sasha,” George interrupted quickly, “what a wonderful cut. Have you, um, been to hospital recently?"

"Okay, confession time!” said Sasha like she was playing a game at a slumber party. “I was involved in a car accident. But, um, it wasn't my fault. I mean, I was texting while I was driving but that's not the same as making a phone call. In my Beamer,” she said sitting down and looking at Mitchell again. “Prussian Blue. Heated seats, all the extras. I love my little extras," she said, drawing out her words.

Annie had had enough of that. Mitchell didn’t need anyone idolizing him, thank you very much.

"So you died, did you?" asked Annie sharply.

"Uh, no, I mean, obviously I didn't,” said Sasha like Annie was some kind of mental case. “But, apparently, it was touch and go. Oh, and let me tell you, the doctors were very interested in me. Wouldn't leave me alone, kept on prodding and poking me."

“Uh huh,” said George and began jerking his head toward the kitchen.

“Someone has to stay with her,” mouthed Annie behind Sasha.

“You,” mouthed George.

Annie glared at him but nodded.

The other three went into the kitchen and she was left to sit with the corpse.

***

"I think someone's in denial," said George as soon as he and Mitchell and Nina were in the kitchen.

"Mitchell, what the hell is she?" asked Nina.

"How should I know?" he asked.

“What’s the use of you if you don’t know these things?” Nina asked.

"Well, what are we going to do with her?" asked George hastily.

"Didn‘t you say the mortuary was closed at the hospital? Well, evidently they were experimenting on zombies,” said Mitchell, sighing. “I don’t know what she is, she shouldn’t be at all. All I know is that people can see her and she's rotten. We should just take her back to the hospital, it's clearly their problem, not our problem," said Mitchell, folding his arms.

"I hate to say it, but I agree,” said Nina thoughtfully. George and Mitchell turned to stare at her. It was rather a first. "Well, medically we can't do anything for her here, if anyone can help her, they'll be at the hospital."

“Who’s going to get Annie to agree?” asked George.

They all stared again.

***

“Sorry for shouting at ya earlier,” said Sasha. “All I wanted was some liquid courage afore I went home.”

“Home?” asked Annie, horrified at the idea.

“Yeah, to see my fella. He must be missing me something fierce. You got a mirror?”

Sasha had now taken off her shoes and set them on the table and was picking at her toes.

Annie gingerly picked the shoes up and moved them off the table, grasping at the piece of paper inside; the piece of paper that was the tag from her toe and was covered in bodily fluids of some kind.

“No, no mirrors here,” said Annie. “Mitchell doesn’t like them.”

"So, what's Mitchell's story. Is he single?"

Another irrational surge of anger welled up in Annie. Thankfully Nina exited the kitchen, her arm over her mouth and nose, and gestured for Annie to go into the kitchen.

She gratefully walked into the other room and leaned against the counter.

"She has got to go!"

"Wow, that was easy," said George.

"Yeah, we thought we'd have to persuade you,” said Mitchell. “What with you both being dead and all."

“Yeah, well, you’re dead too, and that doesn’t mean anything,” said Annie.

Mitchell looked away.

“Annie, our present problem,” prompted George.

“She may well be dead, but that is pretty much all I have in common with…that," said Annie.

"Great, well, then that's settled,” said George. “I'll leave it all in your capable hands. I'm going back to bed."

"What do you mean?" asked Mitchell, sounding panicked.

"Well, Annie's invisible to humans and you can't be seen on CCTV, I think you can manage to sneak one zombie into the mortuary. So I'm going to take my lady friend back to bed. The two of you will just have to work together."

“George,” said Annie.

“Annie, I’m going to drop dead,” said George. “Besides, I’m sick of this,” he said, gesturing between the two of them, “thing. You just need to make up your mind or something. I’m administering the time honored ‘forced to be together’ remedy. Now behave like mature adults and go take care of our zombie friend.”

Annie groaned and some of the cupboards began banging open.

George left with his arm over his mouth and grabbed Nina by the hand and they went upstairs.

Mitchell and Annie pointedly looked away from each other and at Sasha, who was painfully obvious in the way she was trying to display her mottled legs to Mitchell’s sight.

"What's that?" Mitchell finally asked, spying the tag Annie was playing with.

"It's the tag from her toe,” Annie said crisply. Mitchell held out his hand and she slapped it in his palm. “So how are we going to convince her to go back to the hospital?"

"We're not," Mitchell said, staring at the tag.

"What?"

"Check out the date and time of death," said Mitchell. Annie leaned over and her eyes widened. "Let's pay a visit to the morgue."

***

George looked in the mirror one last time before washing his hands and throwing the towel in the laundry bin. While he was bent over next to the rubbish bin he saw something that he didn’t immediately understand.

Holding the offending object in his hands he numbly walked back to his room where Nina was shrouding herself in lotion, presumably to mask the hideous odor still floating in the house.

"Nina,” he said stupidly. “Nina, is this yours?” Nina looked up and her face paled but George kept rambling anyway. “I mean, I thought it can't be Mitchell's because he's a man and it can't be Annie's because she's dead and it can't be Nina's because she's on the pill. You're on the pill.” He started speaking faster, the haziness lifting and the panic setting in. “Why would you be needing a pregnancy test? Are you late? When were you thinking about telling me?"

"I was looking for the right moment,” she said feebly.

"Okay, well, I'm not busy now. Are you busy now?"

"Fine! I'm pregnant."

"But you're on the pill!" he protested, unable to take his mind away from this single concept.

"Yes, I am, but, George, you do know there’s no absolutely one hundred percent way to avoid pregnancy, right?”

“But it’s the pill,” he said again.

Nina sighed and attempted another track.

“We had sex when we weren't exactly ourselves and, apparently, the pill  
wasn't designed with werewolves in mind."

George didn’t have an answer for that until something else occurred to him as he twirled the test in his fingers absently.

"Well, you know these tests can be wrong."

"I've done three tests. I'm pregnant, George.” His mind repeated her words and the first glimmer of joy began to peak through until she started speaking again. “It's happening. Or rather it's not. I can't, I can't…I can't let this go any further. I'm sorry."

She sat down on the bed and he hastened to catch up to what she was saying. She clearly wasn’t happy, she’d looked guilty when he’d showed her the test, and she wasn’t looking at him now.

"Okay, so, um, let me get this straight. If I hadn't have found this, would you just have had an abortion without telling me?"

"No,” she said. “I was planning-"

"You were just going to do it, weren't you?” His voice rose. “No discussion, no nothing!"

"Don't you dare judge me!” she said harshly. “This isn't some, this isn't some teenage mistake, George; this is a child of monsters. I mean, who even knows what it could be? Just the idea is…terrifying!"

"It could be fine,” he protested. “We're both fine…most of the time."

"It's my body, George," she said, staring straight ahead, as if that was the ultimate argument.

Normally he’d agree with her, normally he wouldn’t have any problem with her doing whatever the hell she wanted, but she was wrong in this instance.

"Yeah, well, part of it isn't."

"Excuse me?" she asked, murder in her eyes.

"There's part of me in there and as the father I have just as much right as you to decide what happens to our child."

“I don’t believe this,” Nina said, getting up and stalking closer to him. “After everything, you’re one of those men?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he said. “I would never try to tell you what to do with yourself, but it’s not just yourself. There’s such a double standard held in this area. Guy doesn’t want to be involved, he’s the scum of the earth, guy does want to be involved, and he’s a controlling wanker.”

“Right now I’m not seeing the distinction.”

“Nina, what’s the matter? There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, examining her white face and skittish eyes.

“Oh, you’d like that, you’d like for there to be some dark secret you could fix, wouldn’t you?”

“Who said anything about dark secrets?” George asked, confused now. “Nina, you’re not acting rationally.”

“Well, I guess I’m just hormonal,” she threw back at him.

“Nina, don’t, just don’t do something like this without talking to me. I’m begging you,” he said.

“I get to decide this,” she said, her voice trembling.

His exhaustion caught up with him and his anger welled. This was officially one of the worst nights in the world and he couldn’t deal with it anymore.

“I never thought you could be so selfish,” he said, grabbing a blanket and walking toward the door. A pillow hit him in the back of the head as he left. George flung open the door to Annie’s room and threw his things down on the floor. “I only got up for a pee,” he grumbled, before flopping down, trying to get some rest.

Rest didn’t come easily. His conflicting emotions were up and down faster than he could handle. He was angry with Nina, feeling possessive for reasons he couldn’t even understand. But he was happy too, happy at the thought of becoming a father, at having a son or daughter just like he’d always wanted, at the prospect of being with Nina and raising a family. He was confused about why Nina was reacting like this and stayed awake too long, trying to think of ways to convince her not to go through with her plans. The lengths he was somehow willing to go to accomplish that were a little frightening. What was the matter with him? What was the matter with her? Why was this happening in the first place? She was on the pill!

***

The silence was rife with tension on the way to the morgue. Mitchell was surprised Annie didn’t just rent-a-ghost ahead of him to avoid his company. But she was jumpy and nervous, so maybe even his company was better than waiting there alone.

To be honest it was a relief to be with her again. The last month had been agony, like living all his hundred years over again, waiting for Annie. She brought a light into his life like no one had ever done. When he was away from her, and sometimes he’d done it deliberately, he always felt more inclined to fall back into his old ways.

But old ways or not he’d avoided her just as much as she’d avoided him lately. It was really the only thing he could do. They were pretty much stuck living together and Nina had practically forbidden him to leave the house, but it was surprisingly easy to find places away from everyone, brooding in the basement, brooding in the attic, brooding in the backyard. Yes, he was brooding, and likely to continue doing so. His recent crimes, his shame at being found out by his friends, his almost self-enforced house arrest, and the fabled Sword of Damocles hanging over his head were doing nothing for his mood.

The only control or method of redemption he appeared to have left was giving Annie the space she required. It had earned Nina’s approval at least, though George was obviously desperate for the two of them to make up. Mitchell had to pick his battles. Besides, he was teetering on the edge of the end of the physical withdrawal symptoms and having something to concentrate on, like making Annie feel better, was helping him get through it.

Annie stuck close to him as they broke into the morgue and Mitchell rather bitterly inwardly commented about how property damage was apparently an acceptable way to break the law.

Behind the tape in the inner part of the morgue Mitchell found what he was looking for. Annie clung to her flashlight, repeating to herself.

"I'm already dead, I'm already dead, I'm already dead, I'm already dead."

She pointed to an overhead bin without breaking her litany, shying away from a rather grisly looking surgical instrument, lying dirty on a table.

"Bingo." Mitchell rummaged through the reports inside the evidence bag he’d pulled down. "I don't think it was just Sasha.” Annie took the video camera from the bag and sat down across from him. He heard her start up the footage. “There are four subject sheets here. All came back to life, all at the same time. I think they were testing them, trying to find out what they were, how they worked, if it could spread. I think they were scared."

"I know the feeling,” she finally answered, her voice wobbly. “Did it say anything about anesthetic in that?"

"Yeah.” He skimmed back through the report. “Anesthetic ineffective. How did you know?"

"They did it anyway,” she said, showing him with shaking hands the graphic scenes on the camera. “What did they do…with them afterwards?"

"They incinerated them,” he said slowly. “As a biohazard."

"Were they still alive? When they burnt them?"

"I don't know."

She dropped the camera and moved away, because she noticed how close she was to him or because she was upset over their findings, he couldn’t tell.

"Well, it doesn't really matter anyway, does it?” she rambled, her tone becoming bitter and louder. “Because they weren't really alive anyway. The dead don't feel real pain."

By the end her voice was practically screaming and with a loud burst of sound everything in the lab exploded. Mitchell dove for the ground and barely missed a cleaver to the chest. Bits of glass and metal rained down on his head and he ducked under the counter, covering his head with his arms.

When silence finally fell and he dared to lift his head, Annie was gone. He sighed and sank back down, shaking his head in disbelief. That had been extremely violent and powerful and he wondered, not for the first time, exactly what she was capable of.

His first instinct was to go after her, try and help her somehow, but he didn’t think it was his right. He couldn’t help but be very afraid for her. Whatever she might think of him, he still loved her, more deeply than he’d known before she had rejected his friendship.

There wasn’t much point in trying to hide that they’d been in the lab. There was no way to trace it back to him or her and the damage that she’d just inflicted was more substantial than the busted locks he’d broken on their way in. He still did his best to make it look like a robbery, junkies in search of drugs, though the morgue definitely wasn’t the best place to find those.

Mitchell made his way home and quietly entered, trying not to notice Sasha’s smell still permeating the house, being dead certainly helped with that. He paused by the bar; Annie was standing over a sleeping Sasha, tucking a blanket over her. Something in Mitchell’s chest relaxed and he went up the stairs, falling into bed, exhausted.

It was awhile before he slept but sleep he did until George barged into his room the next morning demanding to know why Sasha was still there. Nina joined, hand over her mouth, being rather rude to George, Mitchell noticed sleepily, and that was all before Annie joined them, hissing at them to keep it down because Sasha could hear them.

“Oh, sure, come on in,” he said, spreading his hand sarcastically. “I guess we’re having a house meeting.”

He lay back, attempting to wake up while they all argued and Annie explained what they’d found the night before.

George said something about the way Sasha smelled and Annie almost growled at him.

"Don't be so deadist!"

"Excuse me?" he asked, letting his shirt fall from his face where he’d been protecting his nose.

"It's like racist but for dead people," Annie stumbled to say.

"Have you just spent the whole night just making up words?"

"No, I've spent the whole night watching footage of screaming people being dissected," said Annie.

The pain in her voice brought Mitchell wide awake and he spoke up.

"We owe her, George."

"We owe her? Why, why do we owe her?"

"She, all of them, came back to life while I was on the other side."

"Saving me," Annie said.

Nina shook her head, still holding her nose.

"So, hang on, what are we saying…that death's door was…engaged?"

"Her spirit couldn't pass over because of me," said Annie.

"We made her. We owe her, all of us do," Mitchell agreed.

“Thank you,” Annie said quietly before getting up and going downstairs.

Where, of course, Sasha had disappeared as Annie shouted back up the stairs.

Mitchell fell back onto his bed, drawing the covers over his head.

***

George spent the day while Nina was at work thinking.

He was still very angry with her and felt that she was being unreasonable but he was trying his best to put himself in her shoes. An unexpected pregnancy was scary enough let alone one that might involve giving birth to a werewolf. By the time she came home he was feeling more understanding now that the first shock was over and he’d had a chance to think about it.

He waited until she’d had time to change and then entered their bedroom. She was sitting in the chair, clearly still upset.

"Nina, I'm sorry,” he began, leaning against the closed door. She didn’t say anything or look up. “I really wish we were normal. I really wish we were just having a nice, normal argument about the pros and cons of unwanted pregnancy but we are not normal and maybe…"

"It's not always about the wolf, George," she said, her voice hoarse.

"So what are you saying?" he asked, truly confused now.

"I've got other stuff,” she said, gesturing to her head. “Old stuff…going on in my head. It's…it's not you."

"It's not you. It's me."

Well, wasn’t that just a fine way to put it?

"No,” she said. “It's becoming a mother and…all that means.” She took a deep breath and he watched her closely while she determinedly looked away from him. “See, um…my mum used to hit me. All the time. For my own good, you know, and she always reminded me that, um, I was a mistake, and, uh, I'd ruined her life and I was worthless and I would never amount to anything. She…she made me hate myself."

His heart broke and he remembered the time she’d shown her scars to him.

"You've, you've never said,” he said, moving closer.

"No, there's not really a good time to bring up that conversation,” she said, her voice irritated before she softened again. “See, this, this, this thing…inside me, whatever it is, it's a baby and I will become a mother, and that terrifies me more than anything about being a werewolf.” She sobbed slightly and then swallowed it in a self-deprecating laugh. “You see, I was, I was pretty messed up even before you scratched me."

He knelt down in front of her, touching her knees lightly.

"No, you're not.” He smiled as he spoke because he truly believed his words. “You are strong and you are beautiful. You are not in this alone, I will always be there."

Her shoulders lifted slightly but she shook her head.

"I'm sorry. It's not enough, George."

He could feel his face fall but he didn’t back away.

“It’s okay,” he said, trying to keep his disappointment from showing. This was not about him. She was hurting, his beloved Nina, and he had to be there for her. “I just don’t want the past to ruin an opportunity you might want later. Can you, will you accept that?”

She nodded, tears slipping down her face.

“I do, but, George, I’m so scared.”

“It’s okay,” he said, leaning forward, putting his arms around her. “Can you just not do anything for another week, think about it, and let me think about it?”

She nodded against his shoulder.

George slowly let out the breath he’d been holding and focused on the woman in his arms, trying his best not to worry about the future and help her feel safe in the present.

***

It was startling for Annie to realize how much she was invested in Sasha’s situation. Not only was Annie partly responsible for Sasha’s existence, but after what Annie had seen in the morgue, she wanted Sasha to be taken care of and Annie was determined to do it herself. She was also grateful to Mitchell for corroborating her story and for not mentioning what had happened in the morgue to the others and that just made her more confused about her feelings for him.

Annie wasn’t sure what had happened the night before except that she evidently needed to learn how to control herself, and that it might not be a good idea for her to be around people who could die when she was feeling emotional. She didn’t want to really analyze it because if she thought about it, it would remind her of how she felt finding out about Owen, about Purgatory, and about Kemp. Annie didn’t like how she felt when she thought about those things.

So instead she went after Sasha and found her terrorizing her old boyfriend, at which point even Sasha could no longer hold onto her denial and accepted the fact that she was dead.

Annie tried to do her best to comfort her. After all, Annie knew what it was like to wake up and realize that you could no longer have the life you wanted, that the rules had changed. To know the love of your life was no longer yours. Granted, that had actually been in Annie’s best interest, but the principle was the same.

The difference for Sasha was she still had a body. Annie wasn’t sure how that worked. But whatever happened, Annie’s initial revulsion was washed away by her natural compassion and the sickening realization on Sasha’s face.

“We’ve all had to deal with what we are,” said Annie. “You’re in good company.”

“You? A ghost?” said Sasha. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m just a leftover image of who I was,” said Annie. “Imagine never being able to change your clothes again. I’m lucky I was wearing this outfit when I died.”

“Well, I guess nothing’s perfect,” said Sasha. “Anyways…I can still change my clothes, right?”

She was still bummed so Annie tried to think of what they could do for her. A girly night out appeared to be the ticket. After a lot of groveling, Annie convinced Nina to come and to donate her makeup to the cause. Annie spent the day getting Sasha as ready as humanly possible. 

In the end Annie was rather proud of her handiwork. It had been fun. Once Sasha stopped trying to put on airs there was a genuinely nice girl inside her rotting face. Annie enjoyed getting to know her. It had been so long since anyone besides her roommates had seen her that Annie had forgotten what it was like meeting new people. 

Annie proudly presented Sasha to everyone and barely noticed how George still subtly covered his nose and Mitchell couldn’t help grimacing at Sasha’s caked on face. She did overhear Nina promise George she wouldn’t drink being: ‘the designated woman with a pulse.’

Annie also heard Mitchell wishing Nina good luck and Nina’s good-natured snort on the way out the door. It was odd, but the moment gave Annie pause. She’d always thought Nina and Mitchell would get on really well if they could get past Mitchell’s past. Considering it wasn’t really something Annie was dealing well with herself she didn’t blame Nina, but she still stored the thought away for future reference. There’d be plenty of time to fix everyone else once she knew what she herself wanted to do.

It was a good night for the most part. Nina was reluctant to dance until Annie dragged her onto the floor. It was so normal Annie almost forgot for a moment that no one could see her. Until people started to dance through her.

At least, it was a good night until Annie noticed Sasha had disappeared and Annie and Nina found her passed out on the floor, clearly unable to walk or function.

A blinding stab of fear passed through Annie but she wouldn’t let it control her. They got Sasha home as soon as they could and put her in the spare room. She was barely breathing now. Mitchell carried her in and put the covers over her while Nina got a bowl of water to try to bring some relief. None of them really knew what to do and there was no one they could go to for help. Annie felt helpless.

Mitchell looked like he wanted to comfort her but instead he said if she needed anything to let him know and went downstairs.

Annie sat all night by Sasha’s bedside before Nina came to relieve her in the morning. By that point Annie had decided that this wasn’t the end. She made a list of everything she thought they could use to help Sasha and was determined to make her better by any means necessary.

It wasn’t that simple when she went to present the news to everyone else because they looked at her like she was crazy when she asked for a wheelchair to get Sasha around.

“Annie,” Mitchell began.

“I know what you’re going to say, Mitchell, and I don’t want to hear it,” she said in the tone that had been getting him to back down for the last month. This time he wasn’t bowing to it, getting up from his chair and actually coming over to her and putting his arms around her. “What are you doing, I don’t want a hug,” she began to say, but then Mitchell was hugging her and it felt so right. She’d missed this so very very much and she was feeling so very sad. “Mitchell, stop,” she said after a glorious moment of letting him continue to hug her.

He pulled away immediately and didn’t look at her. She felt flustered for a second and then looked at Nina.

Nina was looking at her with something like pity and envy in her eyes. Annie wasn’t sure why.

“Did you just make up?” asked George hopefully.

“No,” snapped Annie. “I just…I guess I’ll just be here for Sasha when…”

She sat down and took Sasha’s sticky hand and turned her back on everyone else.

“I’ll come back after work,” Nina whispered as she left the room.

Annie spent the day with Sasha who woke up sporadically and seemed to understand that this was the end. It was a long sad day but it afforded Annie the opportunity to do a lot of thinking. Maybe she couldn’t fix everything. Maybe some things didn’t even need to be fixed. Maybe she should concentrate her efforts on the things she could fix.

Nina arrived home and offered to relieve Annie but Annie couldn’t leave. The two of them sat there together.

“Will you be okay?” Nina asked kindly.

“I’m not sure yet,” said Annie. “Thank you for helping me. This last month, I mean.”

“It’s what you did for me,” Nina answered.

“That wasn’t anything.”

“It was what I needed,” said Nina. “I just hope I did the same. I know this wasn’t the homecoming you wanted.”

“No, definitely not,” said Annie. “But considering how I left I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Nina said, “but I’ve never seen Mitchell so focused on anything as he was on finding you.”

“Do you think he’s safe?” asked Annie instead of responding to Nina’s remark.

“I think…his intentions are good. I think his restraint isn’t. I think we’re all fooling ourselves if we believe this is the last slip up he’ll ever have.”

Annie nodded.

“I just have to decide if that’s something I can live with.”

“I don’t see how anyone could,” said Nina and that was the end of it for the moment.

Sometime later Sasha stirred and whispered Annie’s name.

“I’m here,” said Annie.

"Do you know what I wish? I wish that I'd done more, you know, with everything,” Sasha whispered, her voice rasping. “Like, even the stupid stuff. Like every night I went home early because I was a little bit tired, I just wish I'd stayed out and danced and laughed and lived. Cause nights like that won't come your way again. Even Gethan. I wished I'd loved him more, held him more. All those stupid fights we had over nothing. Every time I walked away when things got a little bit rough. I wish I hadn’t have done that. We talked about having a baby,” she continued. Nina made a little startled sound, “just kept on putting it off, saying we can't afford to this year, we're going to Belize, buying a new rug or a new car. What does any of that matter now?” Sasha grasped Annie’s hand with failing strength. “You gotta promise me you won't let those chances pass you by."

"I promise," said Annie, tears falling now.

"Cause it all goes, it all falls away. The looks, money, lovers, friends."

"Not all your friends," said Annie, trying to smile.

"No. Not all the friends. But the ones who are there at the end are the real ones, aren't they?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Thank you for being my friend, Annie."

"It's easy."

Sasha’s head turned ever so slightly toward Nina.

“Thank you, too. You’re a lot like my gran.”

“Is that a good thing?” asked Nina lightly.

Sasha nodded.

“She was so…nurturing and kind, but firm and fair. You’re like that. You’ll do well.”

Nina turned her head and there were tears on her face.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Sasha’s breath rattled in her throat and she squeezed Annie’s hand. 

“Annie,” she whispered and then lay still.

Annie’s eyes met Nina’s and she didn’t know what to say. 

They became aware of Sasha’s ghost, clean and whole, standing by the bed looking down at her body. Then Sasha turned to look behind Annie. There was a door there. Annie couldn’t help but feel afraid and she reached across for Nina’s hand and gripped it tightly.

Sasha crossed to the door without being told and opened it. A brilliant white light poured out from behind the door.

"Live, Annie. Seize the day. Don’t be afraid to love. To grow. Just live your promise.”

Sasha closed the door behind her and Annie shuddered until the door disappeared and she felt safe again.

She couldn’t stop crying but she knew what to do now.

***

Nina had to compose herself before she could speak to anyone. Seeing Sasha die wasn’t like anything that had ever happened to her before. She could smell the blood in her nostrils and feel the fear and the relief. But Sasha’s words had given her courage and an insight into herself. Even if most of them had been meant for Annie, Nina took them for herself. Everything she’d been thinking about for the last few days kept swirling around in her head and she wept now for her resolution as well as her sadness.

She went into the bathroom and forced herself to look in the mirror.

“You’re not her,” she said three times, maybe believing it. Gingerly she lifted her shirt and spread her fingers over the scars on her stomach. “You will never do this,” Nina said to her reflection.

Suddenly she needed to see George. The scariest part had been the actual decision, but she found once it was made, it was still hard to think about. She needed George to know she’d made the right one. 

She went into their bedroom and closed the door. George was reading on the bed. When he saw her he took off his glasses.

"How is she?"

"She's gone," said Nina quietly.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She nodded her acknowledgment and walked farther into the room, having trouble looking him in the eyes.

"George, would you like to have…a little, hairy baby with me?"

She looked up at him and he nodded, slowly at first, then with more fervor, his tears and grin contradicting each other.

"Yes, I would."

She allowed herself a small smile and then he was vaulting across the bed, kissing her. She kissed him back readily. His excitement was all she needed to feel more secure. He hugged her, his head in line with her chest even though he was sitting on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “about before.”

“No, I’m sorry. I meant what I said, I will always be there.”

“You better be, George,” she said, her voice shaking. “You better be.”

He clutched her to him more tightly in response.

Nina sucked in a breath and held it, still unsure, but was bolstered by his response. She still didn’t know if she could do this, it was terrifying to even think about, but a small thread of excitement was winding through the terror. As long as George was with her, she could do it. She wouldn’t be alone like her mother was, she would have George. That would be the thing that changed the future.

***

Mitchell sat in the darkness as was his wont, rolling up his cigarettes. The stress of the past few days was starting to get to him. He’d tried being patient and giving so that everyone could see how much he wanted to still be a part of the group and could contribute but slowly, terror over what was going to happen to him was creeping in his mind. If he had any hope that everyone would back him, it would be easier, but with Nina so decidedly against and George not willing to cross her, Annie was his only hope and sometimes Mitchell didn’t know if he even wanted Annie to accept him.

If she did then it would give him something to work for again, but hadn’t that been Lia’s very last act of revenge, to give him a life only for it to be taken away? He’d tried to push away her prophecy, telling himself it was just a mind game, a form of punishment for killing her, but sometimes he couldn’t be sure. The very fact that the other side had let Annie go after wanting her back for so long led him to believe that something was going on. When the other side got involved it was always time to shudder.

Then there was all the truth about himself he’d had to face in Purgatory. Was he really worth saving after all? It burned him that given the choice he’d rather scratch his way through the world, continuing a meaningless existence, especially if it meant he wouldn’t have to face those truths anymore. Maybe that was the ultimate truth; he was just a coward, scrabbling at better souls to give him even a semblance of goodness. But that was what had always worked before. Well, except for with Lucy, but he didn’t want to think about that.

Annie came down the stairs, rubbing at her eyes.

“Is it over?” he asked quietly.

She nodded.

“Could you…move her body? It has to go somewhere. I don’t know, can we get it to her family somehow? The hospital told them they lost it.”

“I’ll get on it,” he said. “In the meantime, I can keep it safe in the back.”

“Thank you,” she said, lingering at the bar as if she wanted to say something more but didn’t know how to begin.

“Are you all right?”

She shrugged.

“I’m sad. How are you?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” she said sharply, then sighed. “Sorry.”

“No, you don’t have to be. Annie, what I did was unforgiveable and I shouldn’t have expected you to shoulder that burden. I wanted to save you because you needed saving but I brought you back to something you obviously don’t want.”

"Mitchell,” she said, moving closer, “listen, I know what you are. I've known since day one. But all those things you've done, you're putting them in your past, right?” He nodded slowly, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. She moved even closer, putting her hands on his face. “It's who you are now, who you're striving to be, that counts. And what you've done for me, for George, for all of us. That's the man I know. That's the man I trust."

He swallowed. Could she really mean it?

"Do you forgive me?" he asked hoarsely.

Annie hesitated.

“I…forgive you, but I won’t forget this, Mitchell. I can’t let it happen again. As far as you and I go, you’re one of my best friends, a man I cherish, but as a human being, I won’t condone anything against humanity. If you care about our friendship, you’ll have to respect that this is your last chance.”

He’d take it. He’d grasp it with greedy hands.

“And the families?” he forced himself to ask.

“I’m giving them the gift of blissful ignorance,” Annie said haltingly. “I hope that’s what I’m giving them.”

“That I truly do believe,” said Mitchell. 

“Then I believe it,” she said simply, closing the rest of the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him.

He held her close and tried not to think about anything else other than the moment he was in. Somewhere a wolf was prowling, waiting for him, but this moment, it was precious.


	6. Chapter 6

“Sh!” hissed George.

Annie and Mitchell looked at each other guiltily. Annie couldn’t help but giggle at the look on George’s face.

“Stop acting like a teenager sneaking out of the house,” said Mitchell.

“I am not,” said George, drawing himself up. “I am simply attempting to be a considerate boyfriend.”

“She’s all the way upstairs,” Annie said.

“She’s sick, not deaf,” said George primly.

“Come off it, you’re having fun,” Mitchell prodded, digging his elbow in George’s ribs causing him to jump.

“I can’t deny an element of enjoyment,” said George stiffly.

Mitchell and Annie burst out laughing.

“Your face,” said Annie, “it’s like you’re at a funeral.”

“We’re always at a funeral,” grumbled George.

“That’s a bit deep, George, careful, you might hurt yourself,” said Mitchell.

“I liked you both better when you were fighting,” said George, setting his empty mug on the coffee table, obviously taking great care to find the coaster.

“Refills?” asked Annie, jumping up.

“We’re fine, you don’t have to wait on us,” said Mitchell.

“But…that’s what I do,” said Annie. “It’s my routine.”

Mitchell sighed but he didn’t argue when Annie whisked all the mugs out to the kitchen and brought back fresh ones and a couple bottles of beer.

“A repast for kings,” said George grandly, nipping a fresh biscuit.

“Too bad Nina’s not feeling well,” said Annie.

“Yeah,” said George, “but I guess it’ll be like this for awhile.”

“Why?” asked Mitchell.

“Um, uh, well, cause she’s sick.”

“Why is she likely to be sick for awhile?” asked Mitchell. “I thought she just had the flu.”

“Flu can last a long time,” sputtered George. “Besides, I just meant that…us…sneaking around…not making her…mad, would, would last for…for awhile. Yeah.”

Mitchell looked at George for a long time and Annie wondered what was going on inside his head.

“Sometimes I wonder why a complete twit like you is somehow the master of six languages,” Mitchell said, instead of completing whatever thought was in his head.

“Oi, I am very eloquent,” said George.

“When you’re not trying to cover something up,” said Mitchell. “Then you start flapping about like a lemming coming off the wall.”

“I don’t know to what you’re referring,” said George awkwardly.

“Oh, come on, don’t,” said Annie. “We’re all together and if you two start snipping at each other, we’ll be here all day.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the two of you that do the ‘snipping,’ ” said Mitchell.

“Annie and I get along beautifully, thank you,” said George.

“Most of the time,” said Annie, laughing.

“Oh, yeah, the two of you are like Ghandi and Mother Theresa,” muttered Mitchell.

“You’re not exactly Mr. Feel Good,” said Annie, swatting his arm.

“One doesn’t have to be bubbling and happy all the time to display some levels of maturity,” he answered.

She simply rolled her eyes and tucked her arm beneath his. It was ridiculous how easy it was to fall back in to their old patterns as if nothing had happened. There was still an undercurrent of tension in the house, which was perhaps why George felt so guilty and was trying to be extra considerate to Nina.

Poor Nina, she’d come down with a nasty case of the flu the week before. Annie had been trying to think of what to do to make her feel better, but she hadn’t come up with much more than tea, which was a given, so there was that. But in the meantime Annie couldn’t but feel glad to just lie on the couch with her boys and not worry about vampire politics or good places to transform. The current topic of conversation was renovating the attic to be more werewolf friendly, but that involved a modicum of interior decorating which Annie was happy to discuss anytime.

“When Nina feels better we can start looking at options,” she said.

“Annie, it’s not going to be the guest bedroom,” said George. “We’re looking at soundproofing, reinforcing the walls and the door, getting a big cage, things like that.”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t be nice,” she said, raising her feet over Mitchell’s legs to push at George’s feet.

“I don’t know why I bother,” said George.

Mitchell laughed.

“Don’t try.”

“I guess I shouldn’t.”

“But it’s no fun when you don’t try,” said Annie.

George rolled his eyes and idly glanced at his watch.

“Bollocks,” he said. “I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Someone’s got to pay the bills, George,” said Annie. “Get off your lazy ass and get to it.”

“I’m on a short shift,” said George, jumping up and grabbing his keys and mobile from the table. “Can you keep an eye on Nina, please?”

“Of course,” said Annie.

“Annie can make her a grand feast and I’ll check on her right now,” said Mitchell.

“Be careful…she’s a bit cranky,” said George. “And you’re not exactly her favorite person.”

“I’ll tread carefully,” said Mitchell. 

George ran out the door and Annie eyed Mitchell carefully.

“What are you up to? I can watch out for her.”

“You’re already doing too much,” said Mitchell. “I’ve got to do something to pull my weight around here. Besides, you better make the tea cause if I do it, well, we’ve all had my tea.”

“Only once,” said Annie. “It was enough.”

She still felt a little uneasy about his eagerness to check on Nina but she wanted him to feel like she trusted him and that they all needed him. She didn’t like the bitterness in his voice.

“I’m just popping in to make sure she’s okay,” said Mitchell. “Not gonna subject myself to more Nina wrath than I have to, okay?”

“Go on then,” said Annie. “I’ll be up with her things in a minute.”

***

Nina gingerly turned on her side, trying to make sure she didn’t jostle her stomach too much. She was going to get bed sores if she kept on like this and as a nurse she’d seen more of those than she’d like. Irrationally she pictured different ways to make George pay for doing this to her. Nina wasn’t a stranger to the usual symptoms of pregnancy but she knew enough to know that everything was amplified in her case. It had to be the fault of the wolf. 

It almost made Nina glad she was stuck in bed because if she wasn’t she would be tearing pieces out of everyone she met. It scared her how angry she was all of the time. Was it simply a symptom of being pregnant? Did it mean her wolf was taking over her ability to think straight? Was it an evil influence over her hormones by some monster baby in her belly? She couldn’t be sure. She had been too busy heaving day and night to get much thinking done. She was terrified that she’d made the wrong decision and not just for the future. 

After all, her main question once she’d firmly fixed in her mind to have her baby, was what would happen the next time she transformed? That was only a week away. The baby had already survived one transformation but was that because it was so tiny that it hadn’t mattered that her body had completely transformed itself? It reassured Nina slightly, but now that she almost actually wanted this baby, the idea of anything happening to it was petrifying. George had wanted to ask Mitchell if he knew anything about werewolf pregnancies but Nina had blown up over the suggestion. She wasn’t even sure why, but some instinct inside her didn’t want Mitchell anywhere near her baby or even to know it existed.

A soft tapping sounded on her door and she grumbled an invite.

Mitchell stuck his head in and Nina narrowed her eyes.

“What do you want?” she asked sharply, in no mind to even pretend to be courteous.

“Just checking on you,” he said, closing his eyes and pausing as if listening.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not sick,” he said, opening his eyes.

“Look at me, of course I am.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Wha- How…that’s none of your business. If you tell George you know then I’ll tear your head off.”

“I believe you,” he said, coming in and shutting the door.

“Did I say you could sit down?” she asked.

“Are you okay?” he asked, ignoring her jabs.

“What does it bloody look like?” she asked, trying to sit up and finding herself practically incapable of it, not without being sick anyway.

“Annie’s bringing you some tea,” Mitchell said.

“Great, now I can drown,” she said.

“Nina, it’s okay…to be scared.”

“You don’t get to do this,” she said. “You don’t get to be the concerned, know it all vampire who helps out with the supernatural problems we all have, okay? At least not with me. Piss off.”

“Like it or not I’m what you have, Nina,” he said, sounding slightly more angry and she was glad she’d gotten a reaction out of him.

“Then I’m basically screwed, aren’t I?”

Mitchell studied her for a moment and she resisted the urge to retch as she pictured leaping out of bed and clawing his eyes out.

“What are you scared of?”

“What do you think? Hello, I’m possibly carrying the spawn of hell in my uterus. Then there’s the fact that I’m way further along than I should be. Either that or this baby is going to be about ten pounds too big when I finally get to labor. Oh, and then there’s the problem where I’m going to transform in a week and who knows if the baby will even survive that, which will break George’s heart and, surprisingly, mine.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’re always sorry. Is that the only phrase you know?” she asked.

“It’s what polite people say, Nina,” Mitchell said. “Now tell me why you’re so angry because those other fears are all too real but there’s something else going on here.”

“What the hell gives you the right to ask?”

“Maybe I don’t have any right,” he said, hunching his shoulders, “but I can help. Do it for George, do it for the baby, but there’s something eating inside of you, Nina. Maybe George doesn’t know, maybe he does, maybe he’s forgotten what it’s like your second year being the wolf, but either way, somehow you’re not talking to him. You can talk to Annie but she can’t help even though she’d die again trying. It’s darkness that’s your problem, Nina, and that’s my area.”

“I hate you and your twisted, poisoned logic,” Nina said, tears streaming out of her eyes.

Every word he said hit her in the gut like a bullet. Perhaps she was overly hormonal, perhaps the wolf was speaking for her, and perhaps nothing would ever make sense again.

“Hate away, but talk to me,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “I let you run once, but this time it’s different and we don’t have that option.”

“You never _let_ me do anything,” she growled.

He leaned back.

“Fair enough.”

Nina swallowed her anger and tried to force herself to see beyond the red.

“Have you ever known a pregnant werewolf? Did…did the baby survive the transformation?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know for sure. I’ve never met a pregnant werewolf. I’ve heard tales, but it’s hard to know the truth cause they’re all twisted by vampire bias.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

He shot her a look and continued.

“Mostly what I’ve heard is that the baby didn’t survive the transformation though, I’m sorry.”

Nina let out a sob and clenched her fists.

“Leave me alone,” she said.

He got up but lingered by the door.

“Nina, I don’t get it. I thought you were on the pill.”

“It doesn’t work when you’re a werewolf,” she said automatically, still thinking about what he’d said.

“Wait, what?” he asked, turning around.

“Apparently when you have sex as a werewolf, it doesn’t work,” she said slowly as if speaking to a child.

“You had sex…as werewolves?”

“Yes, during our little forced stint together.”

“Hell,” he said, sitting down again, running his hands through his hair. 

“What?”

“There’s another tale…a legend, a prophecy, whatever. About the child of two werewolves, but the only specific is that they had to be werewolves when they conceived the child.”

“You’d better not be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I think you just became the Virgin Mary of werewolves,” said Mitchell.

“I hate you,” said Nina, her head falling back on the pillows.

“It’s just a legend; I don’t even know the words. Just that it was imperative werewolves never mate while they were wolves. Something about the offspring being…dangerous to us. The Old Ones were always talking about it, that’s why we kill lycos and humiliate them. Mostly.”

“Even better.”

“I think that you can rest easy about if the baby will survive,” Mitchell said weakly.

“Great,” she said. “No, now I’ll just worry about the legions of vampires that are gonna hunt us down.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” said Mitchell. “We’ll keep this very private until the baby’s born and then we can look at it again.”

“You’ve got that right,” she said.

“I hope that helps a little bit,” said Mitchell.

“Unfortunately, it does. Now I’m left feeling like I’m such a hypocrite,” Nina said, sighing.

“What?”

Nina didn’t know why she’d said that. All of her anger seemed to leave her, that beautiful righteous anger that left one utterly sure of what they wanted out of life. Now she was just afraid and in pain and tired. About how she’d felt when they moved to Wales apart from the nausea.

“It’s easier to be angry,” she said tiredly. “I was so angry when we left Bristol, determined to find Lucy and protect us and make up…for what I did.”

“I know the feeling,” she heard him mumble but didn’t comment on it.

“I’m a hypocrite because I wanted to kill her, I wanted you to kill her,” said Nina. “Because I see so clearly when it comes to George’s affection for you but not for my own hatred.”

“You don’t have to like me,” said Mitchell.

“But I do, I did. It’s not your personality I don’t like. Maybe it’s not even the fact that you’re a vampire. You’re the scapegoat for the world that I hate. You’re the mirror image of my rage that I’m afraid will take over this world. I wanted Lucy dead, chopped into little pieces. I never used to be angry like that. What if…I act on it?”

“You won’t,” he said. “You can’t fool yourself like I can. Acting out against me is more honest than hiding yourself inside the kill like I did.”

“I can’t forgive you,” she said. “If I do then I have to look at myself and forgive myself and I can’t do that. I won’t be human anymore if I let myself accept that this world is right.”

“I understand. But…you do have to live in it, Nina. There is no cure. George has to live in this world and your child will have to. If you can’t live with them in it, you guys won’t make it.”

“Keep your nose out of our business,” she snapped. “I know what I have to do.”

“And watch that temper of yours, you’re being angry for two now,” he said.

Nina almost wanted to laugh but there was still something hateful and bitter gnawing inside her so she didn’t. Yet there was a peace almost between her and Mitchell, some sort of bridge extended by his questions and her admissions. She felt like she could sleep now.

“Don’t tell George,” Nina said, when she felt safe enough, that she wouldn’t laugh.

“He should know, Nina,” said Mitchell.

“Don’t!” she snapped. “I get to tell him, I get to figure this out.”

“Okay,” he said, acquiescing.

Annie ratted on the door and came in bearing a tray.

“Sorry, I just wanted to get it perfect for you. How are you feeling, you poor thing?”

“Much better,” Nina said, looking at Mitchell, hoping that would somehow convey at least a little of the peace she felt.

“Cheers,” he said and exited.

Nina laid back and let Annie fuss over her. The worst was yet to come.

***

Mitchell slipped out of the house and took the shortcut to his new favorite smoking area. It was amazing how being cooped up and completely useless to everyone made him look forward to his smokes.

In deference to Nina, and really for his own peace of mind, he’d taken to frequenting the odd corners and hidden spaces of Barry. The best was underneath an overhang next to where the woods budged up close to the actual city.

He had a lot to think about, especially regarding Nina and George’s baby. He hoped they would make an announcement soon because keeping the news from Annie was making him uncomfortable. The whole situation was uncomfortable because he honestly didn’t know what was coming next, and he wished he’d paid more attention when Herrick had been rambling on about eradicating werewolves. 

An itching sensation scratched at the back of his neck and he slowed a fraction to try and assess what it was. It felt like someone was watching him. The sensation went away after a minute or two and Mitchell zipped his coat up higher and went on his way, alert but casual.

He arrived at his destination and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a drag.

The feeling of being watched returned and he glanced over to his left. A man was standing by the other side of the overhang, lowering his cigarette at the same time as Mitchell. He was tall and big, with scraggly dark hair at his shoulders. He looked older, wearing a black leather jacket and fingerless gloves. Mitchell felt uneasy immediately, but nodded curtly and returned to his own smoke. The man stamped his out and hesitated for a minute before walking over to Mitchell.

"Funny, you know, somehow I thought you'd be taller, you know, close up like."

Mitchell raised his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Mitchell stared, wondering if the man was ever going to stop talking. “No, it's just that, um, well, um, it's just that I'm like you, you know."

His eyes flashed black and he stretched his mouth wide till Mitchell could see the man’s tonsils, let alone his fangs.

"Okay, all right, easy, easy,” said Mitchell, looking around quickly. “So you're a vampire."

"Yeah, I am a brother of the blood,” replied the man. “Name's Graham. Well, Graham's my mortal name, but when I was reborn to the night I took the name Obsidian…” Mitchell stared at him. He really didn’t have time for this. “…Graham's fine. Obsidian. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Okay, yeah, um, all right, Graham, um, I'm kinda busy right now so can I help you with anything?"

Graham shuffled his feet.

"I feel a little bit embarrassed now but, um, I am a little bit of a fan boy. I could say fang boy," he said, showing his teeth again.

Mitchell cringed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it."

"And I was a massive Neil Diamond fan. You know, Neil Diamond?” Mitchell didn’t say anything. “Doesn't matter, but that kind of gave me the idea so now I'm on a sort of pilgrimage, you know, like a star tour and I'm visiting all the legends in our little world so…naturally."

"You came to see me."

Mitchell didn’t know what was worse, that Graham thought Mitchell was worthy of being a vampire legend or that he’d tracked him to Barry.

"I mean, you're up there with the greats. I mean, what you did in Bristol was just…"

Mitchell stiffened slightly.

"Remind me again?"

"Oh, no, wait, you don't need to be modest. You got a whole chapter of vampires to renounce blood. Amazing. Are your boots-" Graham pointed downward.

"Excuse me?"

"I was just wondering about your boots."

Mitchell wondered if he was dreaming. This was getting ridiculous.

"Listen, Graham, I have stuff that I really need to do so…"

"Oh yeah, you know, of course, of course. Well, it has been such a privilege to meet you, Mitchell, and maybe, uh, I could catch you again sometime."

"…Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, maybe sometime."

Graham extended his hand and Mitchell went to shake it but the man started doing one of those stupid complicated handshakes.

"Brilliant,” said Graham anyway and walked off into the night.

Mitchell stared after him for a moment or two, his brain racing to catch up with what had just happened. What the hell was going on?

Hopefully it was nothing more than it seemed, a bizarre encounter with a strange individual, and it would end there. Mitchell still couldn’t shake the idea that when Graham talked about Bristol, he’d really been trying to say something else.

***

George sniffed the air as he got home. There was a sour kind of smell hanging over the entire house. He would put it up to Sasha’s presence lingering if he didn’t know how sick Nina was. He didn’t know anything about morning sickness really, but it seemed to him this was rather an extreme case and maybe more so because of her werewolf status. Nina was simply very sick. It was disgusting cleaning up after her and he couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed at how glad he’d been to go to work and deal with other people’s messes instead of his own.

He’d been having a quiet panic attack for the last week. Yes, he’d been glad to know he would be a father; yes, he loved Nina more than anything and couldn’t wait to start their lives together in a new way, but George had never been good at handling change. 

Poor Nina was lying in bed and George wasn’t sure how long that was going to last, but he was worried about this was going to change everything. He couldn’t even speak to Mitchell and Annie about it because Nina wouldn’t let him. He resented that, resented it highly, and then felt angry at himself for being so selfish. Still, he kept planning out ways to ‘let it slip’ and ask for forgiveness later. This was supposed to be a happy time and instead he just felt anxious. Now that the initial joy was over, constant worry and questions had taken its place.

Would the baby survive the transformations? If they did would that mean they would be born a werewolf? Would they be able to control themselves at all? Would they be a complete wolf? Would George be able to handle that? Would Nina? What if the whole thing was a big mistake? A mistake that he couldn’t even talk about with his best friends.

He’d been noticing changes in Nina. Not just that she was bigger, and George couldn’t quite figure out how Annie hadn’t guessed yet because of that, but she was meaner. Nina was never exactly the most gracious of people, but there was an inherent kindness to her that George had always admired. Now she could barely stand to be civil. Was it because of the pregnancy itself or was the wolf somehow taking advantage of the pregnancy to gain more control?

George had never been able to figure out if he thought the wolf was completely separate from himself and simply took over once a month or if George was the wolf all the time and only let it out once a month. For a long time he’d been very attached to the former idea and could barely stand to talk about the possibility of being the wolf.

But ever since…ever since he’d killed Herrick it was like that door that Daisy had talked about was flung wide open. Not only was his sense of smell enhanced but other aspects of him too, like his rage and his values. The shock of what George had done to Nina by scratching her had seemed to snap him out of walking through that door fully, but ever since then he’d never been able to keep himself completely separate from the wolf. Putting it to sleep only seemed to twist the wolf more tightly into George’s daily life. Walking into Kemp’s facility had made the wolf snarl, or maybe it was just George who was angry, he couldn’t tell anymore. Lucy had told George that there was something inside of him that recognized her as the enemy but at that moment George hadn’t been able to distinguish any difference between that something and himself.

Losing Annie had softened that awareness of rage inside of him. He’d retreated back into himself, trying to hold on to anything that brought him comfort, clinging to Mitchell and Nina. Even when Mitchell had confessed his crimes, there was only a blank sort of horror, the general feeling of disgust at the fact of atrocities in this world.

It did go deeper than that, George knew it did, but it didn’t go as deep as it could have. Besides, there was still that nagging feeling that if Mitchell hadn’t been so angry inside the facility, George himself would have been holding Kemp by the throat. Certainly when Kemp had been holding Nina with a stake to her neck George had been almost blinded by anger. If Annie hadn’t intervened George wasn’t sure how long he would have been able to keep his common sense.

Was this what Mitchell dealt with every day? Anger and a desire for something stronger, more primal? How did he act so completely normal most of the time? Maybe…maybe the aberrations weren’t the occasional massacres and one night stands that ended in blood, maybe the real unusual thing about Mitchell was the fact that every day wasn’t like that. If that was the case, then George didn’t have any moral high ground.

Besides wasn’t there such a thing as righteous anger? George didn’t think he was the best judge anymore and that annoyed him. It annoyed him that he didn’t really even have time to figure it out. He’d spent the day at work; he would spend the night making sure Nina was okay. He’d worry some more about his unborn child. Any time not spent being responsible, he was determined to spend with his friends, he’d earned that.

George shut the door and headed upstairs. He walked into his and Nina’s room. Nina was asleep and he carefully kissed her cheek. He began to change, jumping when Annie rent-a-ghosted into the room.

“Annie!” he shrieked.

“Sorry, sorry,” said Annie, turning around.

“We have rules, you know,” he said.

Nina woke with a grunt.

“What the hell is going on?” she said, then turned white and held a hand to her mouth.

“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault,” said Annie. “I didn’t know you were here, George.”

“Rules!” he said incoherently. “Just stop flitting about like you own the place. This isn’t Bristol!”

“What’s going on?” demanded Nina.

George swallowed back his irritation. Annie looked rather stricken and Nina looked like she wanted to bite his head off.

“Just a misunderstanding,” he said wearily. “I’m sorry we woke you.”

“I’d only just gotten to sleep!” Nina grumbled. “You’re useless, both of you.”

She rolled over and ignored them.

Annie looked about ready to cry. George gently guided her out of the room and they sat down on the stairs.

“Sorry about that,” he said quietly. “She’s very irritable when she’s sick.”

“I’ve noticed,” Annie said quietly. “I just wanted to grab her things and clean up a bit.”

“It’s fine to help out, Annie, but…there are some boundaries we have in place, you know? You don’t need to do everything. We’re glad to have you back, that’s all you need to do. Be back.”

Annie nodded, and then slowly smiled, nearly bouncing with excitement.

“I can understand Nina’s irritation. Because…is there anything you’re not telling me about her?”

He wasn’t surprised and he reluctantly smiled.

“Nothing I can say,” said George. “I promised.”

“I get it,” Annie said, tapping her nose with her finger and leaning against him.

George put his arm around her shoulders and tried to imagine a world without quite so many problems. It was getting rather hard to do.


	7. Chapter 7

Mitchell flipped on the telly as he settled at the bar with his food. Annie was up sitting with Nina and George was at work. Mitchell was feeling positive. His jitters from the past two days had gone. Nina had started feeling better the day before and she and George had announced their pregnancy to Mitchell and Annie. It hadn’t come as a surprise to anyone, but they’d had a mini celebration with champagne for everyone but Nina. It had been the most peaceful everyone had been since Annie’s return.

There was an uneasy truce between Nina and Mitchell now. She and George were obviously still scared about what would happen when they transformed in a few days but other than that things had quieted. Annie wasn’t hovering quite as much as she had been and Mitchell had decided that both his prophecy from Lia and his encounter with Graham were singular incidences not worth dwelling on.

He ate his eggs, switching to the sports channel, only half paying attention to the news castor.

"Our main story tonight is the much anticipated clash between the vampire John Mitchell and an as yet unnamed werewolf.” Mitchell froze and then quickly turned his attention to the television screen. “Of course regular viewers will know that this has been on the fixture list since a prophecy was given to Mitchell by one of his victims, that he would be killed by a werewolf. In a surprise move Mitchell's camp recently cast doubt on the reliability of this prophecy. They've dismissed it as mind games, prompting this response from Team Werewolf: ‘Mitchell won't be saying that when he gets his head ripped off. There's a wolf-shaped bullet with his name on it. Mitchell's gonna get got.’ So it just looks like this story refuses to stay dead."

Mitchell turned off the screen, then flung his eggs across the room, shattering the bowl against the wall, and let out a string of curses.

“What the hell is going on?” asked Annie, running down the stairs.

“Nothing, I’m going out,” Mitchell said, grabbing his jacket.

“No,” she said, leaping in front of him. “No, you don’t get to do that anymore. How do I know you’re not out about to ravage anyone who looks at you the wrong way?”

In spite of his sudden fear and anger he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ravage? Really?”

“You know what I mean,” she said, flushing.

Mitchell closed his eyes and tried to rein in the impulse to push past her and run until he was on the other side of the country.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone. I just need to go out. I promise.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I can handle it, Annie. You don’t have to try and fix everything.”

“You don’t have to do everything by yourself,” she retorted.

“I’m not; I’m just going for a walk. Is this how it’s going to be? I’m just going to be tethered to you, not allowed to do anything for fear I’ll start killing again?”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Annie. “You’re twisting my words.”

“You’re twisting my life, just leave it be,” said Mitchell and walked toward the door.

“Just remember what you stand to lose,” said Annie softly as he left.

Mitchell slammed the door in response and felt bad, but not bad enough to go back and apologize. He was facing a death sentence; he had the right to be angry.

It was the surprise of it all that was the hardest bit. Yes, he’d known about the prophecy, but he’d managed to convince himself it was all a game to Lia. He should have known better. He was going to get everything back, Annie, George, their family of sorts, his control; then lose it all, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

Maybe pushing Annie away hadn’t been a bad thing; maybe it would hurt less for her when it happened. Mitchell wondered who it would be as he walked. Nina certainly seemed the most likely candidate, but then again, George could be very protective of her. Maybe it would be the baby. Hell, maybe it would be some stupid accident by a random stranger and the biggest irony of everything would be that Mitchell would get killed for no reason at all except to fulfill some great divine proclamation.

He cursed again.

“Good thing no ladies are present,” said a voice from behind him.

Mitchell turned around to see Graham shadowing him. A panic began to rise up inside him, but he forced it down.

“What are you doing?” he gritted out.

“I got a job,” said Graham. “Gonna be a porter, just like you.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” said Mitchell.

“Well, just catching up then,” said Graham, smiling. He opened his jacket to display a pair of scrubs underneath. "I wish I had a camera. Not that it would do much good considering we don't show up on photos."

"This isn't happening," said Mitchell. "You can't stay here."

Graham’s smile vanished and he spoke low, in a forced casual tone.

"Cara says hello."

Mitchell swallowed. 

"What did you say?"

Graham smiled again, shrugging.

"Oh yeah, she got over that whole 'pretending to kill her and bricking her up thing.' You'd have to ask her though."

Mitchell ran his hand through his hair. Why was this happening to him? Better not to ask that question, but still…

"Where is she?"

"Dunno. She around though, digging up trouble somewhere."

Graham kept walking, as if he wasn’t deliberately trying to…what…blackmail his way into Mitchell’s life? It was pretty clear he was suffering from a case of hero worship or vampire envy or something like that, but this was ridiculous. Mitchell didn’t have time for it.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, forcing Graham to stop and face him.

"I just want to be here, is that too much to ask?" Graham slapped him on the back. “Well, gotta get some rest before I start the job, right? See you later, Mitchell.”

Mitchell wandered for a long time after that. To sum up his problems, he was a vampire trying to be a human, he was going to get killed by a werewolf sometime in the unknown future, he kept pushing away the people he loved, and he had a vampire stalker.

Maybe it would be worth it to die. He’d certainly felt ready while Lia had been guiding him down his corridor of horrors, but it was different out here in the world. George’s fastidiousness and Annie’s smile popped in front of his eyes and he sighed. He definitely owed Annie an apology. He just kept on pushing her away. Maybe it was time to think about why.

For the month she’d been gone all he’d thought about was her. She’d filled his every moment with the memory and need of her. Getting her back hadn’t erased his past, but it had made him feel like he could have a future. Her face when she’d found out what he’d done had broken him and her forgiveness had put him back together again. 

Lately he’d started feeling like maybe there was something more behind her eyes when she looked at him, some awareness that hadn’t been there before. She’d been paying more attention to him, stammering and stumbling over her words, blushing when he smiled at her. He’d chalked it all up to happiness that they were all friends again, except she didn’t do that with George. Had she possibly started fancying him? If she had, she had truly horrible taste in men, he’d give her that. Why now? Was it just gratitude for him getting her back?

How did he feel about her anyway? It hadn’t really crossed his mind before. He’d been too busy dealing with Lauren and Herrick and Lucy and all of that to think about Annie that way. Unbidden came the memory of the fresh chill of her kiss that accidental brush so long ago. The horribly crude words he’d spoken to her in the kitchen while languishing in the midst of the blood invading every sense…he hadn’t meant them. Well, he had, but they weren’t true in the sense of him ever verbalizing them that way or wanting to act on them. He’d never wanted to treat her like that. But that one kiss, it was memorable in that it had been wholly innocent like no kiss he’d ever had.

He’d wondered about that aspect of it. He’d cherished that memory. He’d wanted to do it again just to see if it still felt like that. When she held his arm or leaned her head on his shoulder now, she was warmer than he remembered, but still colder than the average human.

But this was all pointless. It didn’t matter if he did think about her or want her or…love her. He was going to die and he was a vampire and she deserved so much better than that.

She also deserved to know the truth about why he was angry, or at least an apology.

Mitchell reversed his course and headed back to the house.

***

George and Annie were laughing on the couch when Mitchell entered the house.

Annie immediately stopped laughing and looked carefully at him, searching for signs of blood and violence or maybe penitence.

Mitchell flopped down on the couch next to them.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, “but I’m sorry for storming off like that, Annie.”

“What did you do to her?” asked George.

“He didn’t do anything,” said Annie. “I cleaned up your mess,” she told Mitchell pointedly.

He flinched.

“Sorry. I just needed some space.”

“You could let other people take care of you sometimes, you know,” she said.

"You could stand to let other people take care of themselves sometimes. I didn't fetch you back here to do anything, you know. Just be here."

"Yeah, but now that I am here-" she said.

Mitchell interrupted her.

"We can look after ourselves."

“You'd be lost without me," she said, only half joking.

"And how would you be without us, huh?" asked George.

“Now you’re siding with him?” she asked him.

“There aren’t any sides, Annie,” George said. “You just have a tendency to try and…fix things. I can understand his wanting some space.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me around?” she asked, feeling hurt.

"No,” said Mitchell immediately. “But you can't base your life on what you give to other people cause, well, we might not always be here."

“What’s that mean?” Annie asked, studying him closely. “You mean…your prophecy?”

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and not looking at them. George exchanged a glance with Annie. “Just try and remember that you’re the only constant you have.”

"But I can take care of you guys," she began.

"Stop it,” Mitchell said sharply. “Annie, stop defining yourself by what you do for other people. Get…"

He trailed off and George squeezed Annie’s shoulder gently.

"A life?” she finished. “Bit late for that.” When neither of them said anything she continued, hardly knowing what she was saying, except it was all she could think to say. “What do you think I came back for? To a world where I can't be seen or heard or touched? All I've got is you and Nina and George. You are my life. You give me life. Mitchell, you saw that place and I'm telling you that if I had to drift through this world without you, with no one knowing I'm even here then….then I might as well be back there."

Mitchell swallowed and turned to her.

“I don’t…plan on going anywhere,” he said. “George and Nina are going to die one day though.”

“Hey,” said George.

“It’s true,” said Mitchell.

“Well, yes, but you don’t have to just blurt it out like that,” said George.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, is all,” said Mitchell. “No need to get all philosophical. It’s appallingly early for that.”

“It’s night,” said George.

“Vampire,” pointed out Mitchell.

“Don’t start,” said Annie, feeling strangely better, if slightly worried suddenly about her entire existence and the point of it. “All is forgiven.”

“What’s for dinner?” Mitchell asked, looking at George.

“Why am I suddenly the cook? I worked all day.”

“You can cook,” said Mitchell and Annie at the same time and they laughed.

“You can cook too,” grumbled George, poking Annie.

“You’re still king of the kitchen,” said Annie. “Self-appointed if I remember properly.”

“You would bring that up,” said George.

Annie leaned back on the couch and watched Mitchell harass George with ease. Yes, this was how she wanted to live. Mitchell would just have to get over it because Annie had no purpose without them. Besides, he’d very neatly sidestepped the question of why he was angry by putting the conversation on to her. She would find out why.

***

Mitchell came in through the back door to find Annie brewing some tea and smiled at the familiar sight.

“And how are you?” he asked.

“Fine, fine, you know me, always chipper,” she said, blushing again. “Um, I never say the word chipper, but you know…”

“Good to know,” he said, amused.

“Your friend’s here,” she said, gesturing to the living room and gathering up her mugs. "I must say, he's very very interesting."

Mitchell’s good mood vanished.

“What friend?”

He followed Annie into the living room to find Graham lounging on the couch next to George. Mitchell stopped inside the door while Annie handed Graham and George a cup.

"Cheers, big guy,” said Graham upon sighting Mitchell.

"Graham was just telling us about the time you went skiing," said George.

"Funny, I don't remember that. At all," said Mitchell in a hard tone.

"Well, it was more falling than skiing. I swear we spent more time on our backs with our mouths full of snow than we did on skis," said Graham in the awkward silence.

George and Annie had instantly quieted and were watching Mitchell closely. He ignored them and focused on Graham.

"You see, I don't remember it, because it didn't happen."

“Um, what’s going on?” asked George.

"Yeah, he was tough back then too when he was training me,” said Graham and Mitchell couldn’t believe how hard he was trying. “Such a hard taskmaster, all he would do is train, train, train, train, train, bloody train. You remember that, Mitchell? Bloody train?"

Mitchell looked at Graham and then realized what was happening.

"Oh, is this the part where you try to blackmail me?" he asked.

“Mitchell!” said Annie.

“Someone tell me what’s going on,” said George.

Graham suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

“They already know, Graham,” said Mitchell, spreading his hands. “That’s not gonna work.”

“No harm in trying,” said Graham, looking embarrassed for all that.

“What do you want?” Mitchell asked, in no mood to continue this game. He stepped forward and grabbed Graham by the neck, hauling him to his feet. "You are in my home, with my friends. That is a big no-no."

“Mitchell, stop it,” said Annie.

"They could be my friends, too," Graham gasped out.

"No, they couldn't."

"And you've got a spare room, I could move in. It'd be nice to have Annie just down the corridor."

Annie suddenly stopped protesting and Mitchell saw red.

"Don't you even speak about her," he said venomously, thrusting harder against Graham’s throat.

“Bet they never saw you…like this before,” said Graham, forcing his words out.

Mitchell growled and dragged Graham through the house and out the front door, George and Annie following behind. Once they were outside, Mitchell dropped his hand and Graham fell to the ground.

“They know who I really am. I don't deserve them as friends, I never have. But you…you're despicable. I will not be your puppet. You're just a fat, pathetic wannabe with no friends and no personality of your own. You are nothing. Now stay out of my house."

Graham’s face crumpled and Mitchell actually felt a little bit sorry for him before the other man got up and hurried away.

"I think you actually hurt his feelings, Mitchell," said George.

"Good riddance," said Mitchell.

“Would you care to tell us what that was all about?” asked Annie. “Or are you going to tell us it’s none of our business?”

Mitchell laughed. For some reason this didn’t bother him as much.

“Guy showed up out of nowhere the other night,” he explained, leading them back into the house. “Looks exactly like me.”

“I did notice the resemblance,” said George. “He even had the same boots.”

“And gloves,” pointed out Annie.

“That look did not work for him,” said George.

“No,” agreed Annie, shaking her head.

“It’s mental,” said Mitchell. “Said he was going on a vampire star tour.”

“Naturally he came to see you,” said George. “I suppose Dracula was next.”

“Might have been,” agreed Mitchell. “But I ran into him again, said he’d gotten a job at the hospital as a porter.”

George started laughing at that.

“Are you serious? Because that’s a job worth having, all the vampire legends are doing it.”

“Step on up for your exciting opportunity to witness firsthand all the vomit in Barry,” said Annie, joining in. “If it’s good enough for John Mitchell, it’s good enough for all the little vampires.”

“Laugh it up,” said Mitchell. “The last thing I need is other vampires thinking anything I did was cool and wanting to imitate it.”

“You’re right,” said George, but he was holding his sides.

Mitchell gave up and started laughing along with them. Graham was sad in a way but they were right, it was a bit funny.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take him under your wing?” asked Annie. “Teach him the proper way to lie in a casket?”

“Or not wash up anything ever,” put in George.

“Best way to roll a fag?”

“All the _Laurel and Hardy_ movie titles in alphabetical order?”

“How to kick over chairs in the movies?”

“Okay, I get it,” said Mitchell, shaking his head.

Nina came down the stairs. She looked far better than she had in the last few days and she was dressed and showered, ready for her first shift back at work.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Mitchell’s got a vampire stalker,” said George, still laughing.

“I’m not even going to ask,” she said, rolling her eyes. She kissed George on the cheek. “I’ll be home later.”

That sobered George up.

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked. “I could come with you.”

“I’m having a baby, not brain surgery,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Call me if anything happens,” he said.

“Believe me, I will,” she said and left.

They were all quieter now.

“Do you think Graham’s going to be a problem?” asked Annie thoughtfully. “He looked…desperate.”

“I don’t know,” said Mitchell. “I hope not.”

He grimly thought about what Graham had said about Cara, but kept that bit to himself.

***

Annie was on a mission. She was going to figure Mitchell out and convince him to tell her what was going on. She had her own ideas and it would take someone of very little intelligence not to put Mitchell’s prophecy at the top of the list of things he had to be worrying about. Still, Mitchell was always juggling at least eight pieces of information that if he’d only be upfront about them, Annie’s life wouldn’t keep getting blindsided. Somehow she didn’t think that his habit of doing so, formed over a hundred years, would break simply because they told him it had to.

So she was just going to have to intervene. Once that was out of the way then she could perhaps forget about how every time she was in the same room with him Lia’s words would flit into Annie’s mind and she’d start blushing, imagining Mitchell in an entirely different way than she ever had before. The idea was enticing because it seemed…fated to be. They were both going to be dead forever. He needed someone to keep him on the straight and narrow and she would be around for the job. He was…funny and smart and had an ease about him that she envied. When he was upset, it permeated the air around him, but so also when he was happy. She soaked up that emotion, feeling in it the semblance of the life she’d once had.

She hated the idea of ever losing that feeling but she was more cautious now than she had been in life. She’d seen true darkness, felt it within herself, and she knew the evil that lurked in men’s hearts didn’t always present itself in a straightforward way. Sometimes men didn’t have to be monsters to be evil. Sometimes good people did bad things. Sometimes the end was the beginning. Sometimes what you wanted was taken from you. She was not about to base the rest of eternity on what amounted to a suggestion from a fellow ghost and a mutual attraction. She deserved more than to simply fall in love with him because she already loved him. If he broke her heart, she wouldn’t recover easily.

So she wanted to get things back to the status quo. That included fixing whatever was going on in Mitchell’s head, making sure George and Nina were safe and happy, preventing Mitchell from getting killed, and figuring out how they were all going to live from now on. Annie had no idea how to go about the latter two so she was going in order until she had to deal with them. Perhaps she could get information about the prophecy from the other side but she was leery of the idea. She hadn’t forgotten her experience even if she was dealing with it better. The very thought of anything to do with Purgatory was petrifying.

So instead Annie was cooking dinner and thinking furiously about everything. She’d been trying to figure out what Mitchell liked best to eat for over a year now but he was apparently a creature of incredibly varied taste and he liked to tease her that she would have to guess. Staying fiercely away from parsley soup, she had been cooking up almost anything she could think of for when he came home.

She fell into a rhythm of sorts, stirring, measuring, and thinking. It was surprisingly easy to multi task as she stopped focusing on what she was doing, simply letting it happen around her. There was peace in involving herself in a routine, something that had made her happy in life. All of the things that she was so worried about didn’t go away but they seemed more manageable when she was also doing something else.

A loud shriek from behind her made her jolt out of her task and suddenly items fell to the ground all around the kitchen. Measuring bowls and spoons, ladles and pot lids, oven and refrigerator doors, that had all appeared to open and pour and check themselves, now lay scattered or broken on the ground and counter.

“You-you, doing that…poltergeist,” said George, apparently unable to get actual sentences out of his mouth. “What was that? You didn’t even blow anything up.”

“Until you showed up,” said Annie, a little surprised herself. She’d been completely unaware she’d been doing everything without her hands. “That soufflé was almost ready too.”

She wasn’t scared so much as immensely pleased. She’d stopped making everything explode lately but then she’d pretty much stopped doing anything. It secretly made her happy to feel like she had control over the things around her. To have controlled the chaos was a huge step forward and gave her hope she’d be able to cope in the future. Maybe she wasn’t a helpless little ghost, traumatized by death, after all. Sometimes she found glimpses of steel within herself, but too often she just reacted to things, bound by her emotions and her circumstances. She wanted to grow. Not just as a person but in her…abilities and skills, to take control of her life and not let anything just happen to her anymore. When evil found her, she would be able to deal with it.

The memory of Kemp’s voice rang in her ears again but she ignored it, focusing on George’s open mouth.

“To hell with the soufflé,” said George. “Annie, did you see yourself? You were, were cooking with telekinesis.”

“Is that bad?” asked Annie. “Would you rather I shattered some more light bulbs?”

“I’d rather you didn’t do anything at all,” he said.

“George, I’m a ghost. I’m not normal. Neither are you, by the way.”

“Once a month,” he said half-heartedly as if even he himself couldn’t believe the old excuse anymore.

“Did I scare you?”

“It’s just a bit startling to walk into one’s kitchen and find the knives floating in mid-air, yeah,” he said, pulling himself up.

“Sorry,” said Annie. “I just wanted to-”

“Just wanted to what?” he asked, gazing around him. “There’s enough food here to feed us all for months.”

“I still need to figure out Mitchell’s favorite,” she said hesitantly.

George put his head back dramatically.

“Annie, you’re not trying to wrestle his innermost thoughts out of him with food, are you? That’s never gonna work. Pretty sure his favorite is not covered under normal cooking books anyway.”

Funny, in all her time thinking about this, it had never occurred to her that, of course, Mitchell’s favorite food was blood.

“You can’t deny he’s been moody and secretive,” she said, avoiding that issue entirely. “He does that and next thing we know he’s killed again. Do you want that to happen?”

“Of course not,” George said wearily. “But apart from being a creature of the night, Mitchell’s a bloke. This is not how we do things.”

“Oh, share the wisdom of the ages, please,” said Annie. “How do _blokes_ handle situations like mass murder?”

“Not by poltergeist cooking,” he shot back.

“Rude,” said Annie.

“I just meant, Mitchell’s gonna see this coming a mile away.”

“It wasn’t exactly meant to be subtle, George. I’m running out of ideas and you’re not helping.”

“What, what am I supposed to do? Why does it always have to be me?”

“He listens to you.”

“He does not.”

“More than me.”

“It’s cause you’re so obvious about trying to fix everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“Annie, you…you have a tendency to butt in to other people’s problems. I know you’re just trying to help, but it can be very, well, very annoying.”

Annie swallowed her hurt.

“My tendencies aside, look at Mitchell. Look at him and tell me there’s not something wrong. He’s going to die, George.”

“We don’t know that,” said George in the tight-lipped voice he used when he didn’t really believe what he was saying.

“Something happened to him over there,” said Annie, trying not to cry. “You weren’t there. It was…it wasn’t hell, but it was awfully close. So don’t tell me that’s not something that needs fixing. Everything’s…broken, it’s all mixed up and he’s not the same, but he is, and I want him back.”

“I do, too,” said George, coming closer and stretching out his hands. Annie moved away, not wanting to be touched. “But…Annie, maybe it’s… Well, maybe it’s you that’s changed.”

“What?”

“You’re cooking with telekinesis,” he said again. 

“You’re just scared of things you don’t understand,” she said.

“Yes, yes I am,” he said. “My point is that you’ve changed. Hell, we’ve all changed. There’s…much more…monster. In all of us. You experienced things, you…well, you took Kemp.” Annie turned away. George paused for a moment. “That can change a person like with, with me…and Herrick. Sometimes…when we’re scared for the people in our lives, it’s really us that we’re worried about. I’m, I’m terrified of what’s going to happen to Nina and Mitchell and all of us, but mostly I’m scared, Annie, so scared, of what’s inside of me.”

His tone made her turn around and hug him.

“You’re good,” Annie said. “I’m good. Nina’s good. Mitchell’s…pretty good.”

George laughed into her shoulder.

“We’re all…scared.”

“But I’m more scared?” she asked.

“Remember Kirsty and Hugh? You went to…let’s say insane lengths to help them. But it was all a reaction to not being able to be seen anymore. A bit,” he hastily added, using his thumb and forefinger to demonstrate.

“Nice save,” she said, pulling back. “You’re right. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong here.”

“Maybe,” said George. “But…be careful with the kitchen.”

She swatted his arm and turned to clear up the mess.

“How is Nina doing at work?” she asked over her shoulder, listening as he talked.

She had a lot more to think about all of a sudden. Maybe there was more to her mania than just wanting to help Mitchell. But having something to focus on wasn’t a bad thing. If she let herself fall into an abyss of constant fear of the other side, then she truly would be lost. Doing something about it, standing up and fighting it, that’s what turned the course of life. She refused to give up on the people she loved. 

If that meant she didn’t have to think about what she was capable of, well, that was okay, too. She’d rather just be stronger than she’d ever imagined than dwell on the fact. She brushed aside the thought that not focusing on herself meant she was ignoring the potential bad as well as the potential good.

***

George was waiting in the kitchen when Mitchell came home. He’d had an unsettling experience and wanted to intercept Mitchell before Annie got a hold of him.

“Let a fellow get his coat off,” said Mitchell, eyebrow raised at George’s ambush.

“No time for coats,” said George. “Mitchell, Annie’s cooked up an entire feast for you.” Mitchell groaned, but George didn’t stop there. “She did it without her hands.”

Mitchell looked confused for a second and then realization lit his face.

“You mean…”

“Yes, her poltergeist-ing has reached the level of domestic comforts.”

"Okay, well, that’s…unexpected.”

“There’s more,” warned George.

“What?”

“Graham came by. He was looking for you. He seemed in a bit of a weird mood."

"Did he threaten you? What did he say?"

"Um, he said, 'tell Mitchell, I'm going to make him proud.' Like you were his dad or something. He left you something."

“What did he leave?”

“I looked through it. It’s…disturbing to say the least.”

Mitchell moved closer and George held out a journal of clippings. Mitchell leafed through it quickly. All of the articles had to do with the Box Tunnel Twenty. Their death and the havoc wreaked spread across pages and glorified into something worthwhile.

Mitchell’s face paled as he read.

“No, no, no,” he muttered.

“What does it mean? Other than his sick fetish with you is truly horrific?”

Mitchell stopped at a page in the middle and pulled out a train schedule.

“That’s what it means,” he said, turning and running upstairs.

George followed him, asking questions.

“It’s just a train schedule…”

Mitchell began rummaging in his room before evidently finding what he was looking for and dashing back downstairs.

“He’s gonna do it, George. I have to stop him.”

George watched Mitchell run out the door and then the realization hit him. 

Graham was going to copy Mitchell and Daisy, going to murder a whole train of innocents so he could prove he was just as good as Mitchell.

Suddenly the comments they’d made about Graham didn’t seem as funny. A child trying to imitate his father was endearing, a grown man who had the power to wreak mass destruction when his father didn’t approve of him was terrifying.

George thought back to Graham’s face when he’d been there, back to the hurt and anger when Mitchell had denounced him. No, there wasn’t anything funny there. Vampires were as varied as human nature itself, but every one that George had ever met had the same sense of pride, the same lack of control over their reactions, the same joy in destruction.

All of them, even Mitchell.

They were predators, craving the devastation of the weak, loyalty and honor achieved through violence and domination. Only one had ever shown George kindness, earning George’s own loyalty. Certain vampires had shown restraint, Ivan for example, George thought showed considerable restraint. Some were haunted by their deeds like Daisy. George didn’t want to think about her. No, he tried very hard not to think about her or to remember she even existed. The guilt weighed too heavily when he did that.

So he thought about Mitchell instead, about how for every cruel remark or violent act he’d done, there had been ten considerate words or unselfish deeds. Maybe that didn’t erase the bad, but for a vampire, George reflected, that had to be an anomaly.

He’d forgotten what other vampires were like. Mitchell had protected him for so long, not involving him or Annie in his work at the funeral parlor. Once the attacks on George had stopped, also due to Mitchell’s intervention, George hadn’t been in the same room as a vampire other than Mitchell until Graham.

Vampires were the worst and truest form of their human selves, Mitchell had said. Well, if that was the case, George was sorry he’d never met the human John Mitchell, because that man must have been incredibly persistent and very self-aware.

George didn’t realize he was just sitting on the stairs until Nina walked up and stood below him, her height causing her to be right about his eye level.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

George shook his head, gesturing with his hand and pulling her closer so she was standing between his legs.

“Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Vampires.”

“Lovely topic,” she said, tensing a little.

“Nina, please, just…listen to me,” he said, not wanting to hear anymore of her warnings or hard truths or dire predictions about the future. He just wanted to tell her what he was thinking. “I just need you to listen.”

“I always listen to you,” she said, frowning.

“I just mean…don’t be…biased.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

George told her the full story about Graham and his interactions with Mitchell, at least what he knew. Thinking back, he really knew very little because Mitchell hadn’t given many details.

Nina leaned against George a little and he supported her, absently measuring the burgeoning of her stomach with his hands.

“So Mitchell ran after him,” ended George simply.

“Do you think Mitchell can stop him in time?”

“I hope so.”

“Before I tell you what I’m thinking, you’d better tell me your thoughts,” said Nina. “Mine are definitely bound to be more negative.”

“Mitchell’s the only vampire you’ve known,” George stated.

“I know.”

“I’ve known others.”

“Okay…”

“They’re different. Nina, they’re so different from him. It’s weird, but Graham’s reminded me - Mitchell thinks differently.”

“I don’t understand,” said Nina.

“We’d known each other maybe a year,” said George, “just moved into the house. He’d turned a girl and I thought he was going to- you remember Becca, from the hospital.”

“She died,” Nina said, her eyes glinting with understanding.

“Mitchell didn’t kill her. Lauren, the girl he’d turned did. See, that’s the thing, he’d turned Lauren thinking that was better than just killing her, I’m pretty sure, but Becca was killed because of that decision. So he let her die. I was holding her in my arms, drenched in her blood, and he let her die.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” she said, brushing a kiss against his forehead.

“But I thought that night…I remember telling Annie, that Mitchell had saved Becca. Vampires are different, they have no restrictions, every inhibition suddenly cut loose. In the first rush of that hunger, who could control themselves? Who? Becoming that would be hell, addicted to something beyond your control and not even something you actually need.”

“I never thought it would be easy,” she said. “Does that make it right?”

“No, it’s all wrong,” George said. “That’s my point, it’s all wrong and hard and yet…Mitchell changed. Somehow he understood it was wrong. Every day he works at not being what is essentially his true self. How difficult that has to be.”

“He doesn’t always make it,” Nina said somewhat gently.

“No, but he tries. He actually tries. I’ve never met another vampire who actually tried. He’s unique.”

“That still doesn’t excuse his mistakes.”

“Nobody’s perfect. Nobody can be all good all the time. I’ve, well, I’ve made mistakes. Look at you,” he turned her face so she was looking directly at him, “my beautiful Nina, look what I did to you.”

A ghost of a smile was on her face and she cupped his face in her hands.

“It was an accident, George. You’ve always tried to keep yourself from hurting people.”

“Sometimes I’m so angry I want to tear the entire city to pieces with my hands,” he said, swallowing. “Sometimes I’ve pictured their blood in my teeth and their skin shredding.”

Nina shuddered and turned away.

“You haven’t,” she said. “Neither have I.”

“You feel it then?” he asked.

She nodded.

“But we haven’t done that,” she said. “If we ever do that, we would be just as culpable as Mitchell is. You don’t get points for trying not to kill people.”

“We’re not playing by the same rules anymore,” George said sadly. “In this world if we don’t give points for that, what’s the point in trying?”

Nina spread her hands across her belly.

“This is my point. You’re my point.”

He nodded, pulling her closer again.

“I just mean…he tries and it’s hard for him, I’d forgotten how hard. I think we have to think about that sometimes.”

“I’ll try,” she said.

“Thank you,” he answered, kissing her softly, then more fervently. 

With a ferocity that surprised him, she pressed him back so his back pressed painfully into the hard edge of the stairs and nipped at his throat.  
George felt an answering call within himself and his initial surprise and questions about ‘how’ and ‘why’ and ‘was this happening’ were washed away under her onslaught. With a growling sound he picked her up and carried her up the stairs, her hands busily tearing at his clothes.

He dropped her on to their bed and divested himself of what she hadn’t already torn off before pouncing on the bed himself, finding himself occupied with a ferocious bedmate and not minding it at all.

***

Mitchell ran.

He tried not to think as he ran, but thoughts inevitably crowded into his mind. He had to make sure he got there in time, but what if he didn’t? What could he possibly say to Graham anyway, to get him to stop? 

Mitchell wasn’t exactly known for his ability to lead, despite constantly getting put into the position. He’d started to make headway in Bristol and he’d been proud and excited about helping his fellow vampires. It had been the hard decisions, the pressure from both sides, the moral gray areas that had crushed him. Everything had literally been blown to pieces and he’d retreated into himself, focusing solely on revenge and then getting Annie back.

From pain to pain, he ran to whatever was hurting him most. What the hell could he possibly tell anyone that would help them?

Mitchell got on the train and methodically began checking each car. He found Graham in the fourth car and when Graham stood up, Mitchell blocked his way, gesturing for him to sit down again.

Graham was still dressed in his ‘Mitchell costume’ as George had called it. But he’d put on makeup now, as if trying to look as imposing as possible. Mitchell felt a great pity well up inside him.

"You don't have to do this," he said quietly, trying to calm himself enough to speak clearly.

"You think I can't? You think I haven't got it in me?"

"It isn't hard to do,” Mitchell said, knowing that to be the truth. “The hard part is not doing it. And I failed. And I've regretted that every minute of every day since."

"Then you are weak,” said Graham, but Mitchell heard the tremor in his voice. “Who should I do first? Maybe I'll take the child. Make the father watch.” When Mitchell didn’t say anything, Graham kept talking. “I killed my own children, you know. Ripped out their little throats. Drained em dry. Nothing's quite seemed real since then."

Mitchell could understand that. The first kill made everything go a little bit hazy, still enough guilt to make you feel, but the pleasure overrode everything else until you didn’t quite know what reality was. If it was someone you knew, were close to, that was even worse, it made that feeling of guilt linger longer.

"I'm sorry for what's happened to you, I really am,” Mitchell said, knowing he had to try. “I'm sorry I rejected you, but this isn't the way."

"You don't get it, do you? I want to be the new legend vampires whisper about in the night. The new king of blood. Starting from now."

Graham stood up and strode forward but Mitchell grabbed him and dragged him back in between the cars, babbling something about undercover ticket agents.

He slammed the door behind them and Graham slumped to the floor.

“This ends now,” Mitchell said.

"So what happens then, eh? You gonna kill me? Cause you don’t kill other vampires, Mitchell, Cara proves that. Do you want to throw me off the train? Go on, that's fine, cause there's plenty of other trains, there's plenty of other easy targets. I swear to you I'm gonna make your little massacre look like a bloody paper cut."

Mitchell closed his eyes because the very idea of doing what he had to do was painful; it felt like he was failing himself, like he was admitting there was no hope.

"How messed up are we, huh?” he said. “Vampires, as a species, that my story can be seen as inspirational! It has to end. The story has to die. It's gonna hurt." Mitchell drew a stake from his pocket, tucked there for this contingency, and drove it into Graham’s chest. Graham gasped in pain and looked surprised. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Tell, tell people that…you liked me," said Graham, his last words a pathetic exaggeration of his true self.

"I will," Mitchell promised, tears forming in his eyes.

He held his hands on Graham’s chest. Graham tried to raise his hand and just bump Mitchell’s fist with his before he faded into dust.

Mitchell stood up, swiping his hand across his eyes, and struggled to control himself. He wanted nothing more than to tear the train apart. Lauren had asked for her fate and that had been bad enough. This time Mitchell had murdered one of his own, and it had been a pointless death. If someone had only been able to help Graham…Mitchell hadn’t even tried, too obsessed with his own problems.

It was a never-ending process, a never-ending choice. Every time Mitchell thought he’d made a stand on one side of the line or the other, something kept dragging him back. Would he have to reaffirm his choice of humanity over and over again, standing over the gritty remains of other vampires? He hated the idea, but was there any other way?

He rode the rest of the journey in between the cars, standing with clenched fists. When the train finally stopped he simply stayed where he was until it started again and began its return journey. After it arrived he got off and walked home slowly, not really wanting to face what was going to happen when he got there, the inevitable questions, the poking and prodding, the silent worry that he’d done something wrong.

In a strange way he also wanted to go home, to at least be somewhere where people knew he who was and for some reason wanted him around anyway.

They were all sitting down and eating when he arrived. Belatedly he remembered Annie’s supposed feast and it was not supposed, it was actual. The counter was loaded with dishes and there was a plate set aside for him. Warmth resounded in his chest and he smiled and sat down at the table.

They let him dish up in silence, a courtesy for which he was grateful. When he’d finished gathering all the good things Annie made, he looked up and met her eyes.

“What happened?” she asked gently.

He told them all, without mincing details. This was one burden he didn’t want to carry alone.

“Are you okay?” asked George.

“No, I’m not. I’m really not.”

“I’m sorry,” said Nina, the sincerity in her voice causing everyone to look at her.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping his own sincerity showed as clearly as hers.

“You did the right thing,” she said next. “He was obviously determined to prove his worth. Whatever that meant.”

“I know,” he said, pushing his food around his plate. “It’s just all so pointless. I keep rolling it around and around in my head, about how he thought that what I did was something to be proud of. All the things I’ve done, they’re imprinted forever in my head, but I’m not the only one who lives with the consequences. Everyone, every vampire hears about it and it awakens the hunger in them, their pride in their abilities, the need to prove themselves. Herrick used to tell stories about me, to every new recruit. That’s…not how I want to be remembered.”

“I tell stories, too,” George said conversationally, eyes fixed to his plate. “It’s not just the bad that’s remembered, Mitchell. Whenever I tell stories, I tell about how you saved my life. Maybe, uh, maybe it doesn’t wash out what you’ve done, but, but there’s another side to the story. Sometimes…it just depends on who’s telling it.”

“Thank you,” Mitchell said again, not really trusting his ability to say anything else at the moment.

George nodded, still looking down.

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” said Annie, placing her hand on his.

There was a spark of something like static electricity that raced up his hand and he started.

Annie jumped a little and blushed. Mitchell cleared his throat to break the silence; George and Nina were both staring at them. Nina narrowed her eyes and Mitchell stuck a forkful in his mouth while Annie hastily removed her hand.

They ate in peace after that, Nina telling some stories about the hospital, Annie quizzing her on her pregnancy, George and Mitchell idly discussing an episode of _Real Hustle_. It felt real and normal and Mitchell slowly began to relax. He needed something like this after the day he’d had. Maybe there would be more days like this if he didn’t run away all the time. Or maybe he should just enjoy them while he could because his time appeared to be running out.

After dinner there was some good-natured arguing about what to do next and who had to do the washing up before a knock sounded at the door.

They all looked at each other, instantly suspicious as to who could be knocking on their door.

“Maybe it’s the postman,” said Annie.

“We don’t get mail,” hissed Nina.

Mitchell rolled his eyes and walked to the front door and pulled it open and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Daisy was on the doorstep, Cara beside her, holding onto someone Mitchell couldn’t see properly behind Daisy and in the dark.

“Hello, darling,” Daisy purred, waggling her fingers. “Did you forget about me?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked tightly, folding his arms.

“Ooh, back to that, are we? You ping pong back and forth a little too easily, don’t you think?”

“What do you want, Daisy?”

“We want you to fix what you done,” said Cara, glaring at him.

“I can’t give you your teeth back,” Mitchell said.

Nina, George, and Annie were crowding around him now, peering out to see who was there.

“Hiya, George,” said Daisy, licking her lips.

George squeaked and ducked back behind Mitchell before emerging again and apparently doing his best to appear nonchalant.

“Um, hi,” he said.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Nina said, rolling her eyes.

“Did I miss a reunion text or something?” asked Mitchell. “What the hell are you both doing here and who’s that?”

“Oh,” said Daisy, slowly smiling. “That’s one of your messes, Mitchell. Allow me to reintroduce you.”

She stepped backward and tugged forward a man, dressed in a suit, small and appearing to be trying to make himself smaller. His eyes were beady and frantic, his body trembling. His pale wispy hair seemed to float away from his head.

Mitchell froze.

“You remember our great king Herrick?” asked Cara.


	8. Chapter 8

Everyone stood frozen and Nina strained to see over Annie’s shoulder. There were definite disadvantages to being so short.

"It's impossible. It can't be possible. But it's him, it's definitely him," babbled George. "Is it him? Mitchell? What are we going to do?"

"Stake him," whispered Mitchell, still staring.

"What did he say?" asked Nina, still not understanding exactly what was going on.

She couldn’t see properly, didn’t know how a man she’d watched George tear the head off of could still be alive, and had no idea who the women were.

“I think we broke him,” said one of the women with a Scottish accent. “Hello, Mitchell, are you in there?”

Mitchell abruptly turned and strode back into the house, George and Annie scrambling after him, George rambling the whole way.

"It is him, isn't it? I mean, I know it's him, but it's not him, but it is."

Nina got a good look at the people standing on her doorstep.

The Scottish woman was slim, with curly brown hair, wearing a denim jacket over a dress with boots. She smirked at Nina and Nina wrinkled her nose at the woman’s perfume. She definitely didn’t like that scent, but she couldn’t remember why.

The other woman was short with dark hair and had a round, blank face. She was dirty and looked vaguely familiar. With shock Nina suddenly recalled buying coffees from her at the hospital canteen in Bristol. 

The man certainly looked like what Nina could remember from that awful night. But he had none of the confidence, none of the arrogance she remembered. This man was small and terrified, looking anxiously from one woman to the other, as if trying to decide who might help him.

“Well, you must be Nina,” drawled the Scottish woman. “I’ve heard ever so much about you.”

“I can’t say the same,” said Nina, folding her arms.

“Oh, I’m hurt. I can’t believe he never mentioned me. I’m Daisy.”

“Train killer Daisy?” Nina asked.

“Oh, so I am known, that’s better,” said Daisy, smiling. “This is Cara. Won’t you invite us in?”

“I’m not stupid,” said Nina. “You’re staying outside until I figure out what the hell is going on.”

At that point Mitchell came charging back down the passageway and Nina was startled at the utter hatred in his eyes.

"Come here, you prick!" he said, reaching and pulling Herrick inside.

Cara leapt forward and crashed into an invisible barrier, Mitchell’s invitation clearly not pertaining to her.

Daisy simply smiled and leaned against the door jam, putting a restraining hand against Cara’s arm.

“Wait, baby doll, this should be interesting.”

Herrick screamed as Mitchell threw him against the wall. Nina ducked out of the way.

"Mitchell, wait!" said Annie.

"Help me! Help me!" cried Herrick.

"George, please do something," begged Annie.

"Somebody help me!" screamed Herrick as Mitchell hit him over and over again.

"George, he's going to kill him," said Nina.

George stood as if unable to move, a look of horror on his face.

"Get up! Get up!" screamed Mitchell as Herrick slumped to his knees, trying vainly to cover his face from the blows.

Annie had turned away from the sight, crying, and glasses began flying off the shelf in the kitchen.

Nina had a split second to decide what to do. She was no fan of vampires, but there was obviously something different about this man. He was terrified and Mitchell was hurting him. George and Annie were clearly useless.

"Will someone control this man?" said Nina in exasperation. She ducked between Mitchell and his target, the stake clenched in his fingers. "Mitchell, don't!"

"Why's he trying to hurt me? Why's he trying to hurt me?" whined Herrick.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again,” said Nina, facing Mitchell with her hand outstretched against him and Herrick to her back.

Mitchell’s eyes were wild and blacker than she’d ever seen. Nina was scared to death, but she was angry, too. He was about to fly off the handle again and she appeared to be the only one with sense in the entire house. 

“Nina, be careful,” George said, appearing to finally come to his senses.

“Bloody lot of good to say that now,” said Nina. “Now, Mr. Herrick, come with me." 

Nina edged with Herrick back into the front room and seated him on the sofa. Cara was crying, Annie was crying, George and Herrick were whimpering, Mitchell was pacing like a caged tiger, staring at Herrick like he was meat.

“I’m gonna get you,” said Mitchell to Herrick.

“House meeting. Now!” ordered Nina.

“What’s going to happen to me?” cried Herrick.

“Okay, Mr. Herrick, just keep sitting there,” said Nina. “Do you want to go back to those women who brought you here?” Herrick hesitated, then shook his head. “Fine, then you just sit here. They can’t come inside, but they’ll be waiting for you if you go out there, okay?”

“What about…him?” Herrick asked, eyes darting to where Mitchell paced.

“I’m going to keep him with me,” said Nina reassuringly. She stood up and glared at her three housemates. “Kitchen!”

They followed her like mute puppies, well, at least George and Annie did. Mitchell looked more like a rabid dog.

Once they were in the kitchen George began moaning, sitting at the table with his head in his hands.

"It's going to happen all over again."

"It's not! We get rid of him," said Mitchell.

"I don't understand how he's here. I ripped him to shreds. I killed him!" squealed George.

"Let's just keep our voices down, shall we?" said Nina.

"I ripped his head off!” said George hysterically, evidently past the point of human intelligence. “And you said, you said, that would be the end, no second takes, the end, over and out, so you tell me how has he survived?"

"I don't know!” said Mitchell, grabbing at his hair like he did whenever he was agitated. “I don't have all the answers! I just know we need to get rid of him tonight!"

"But he doesn't know us!” said Annie. “Not you. Of all people he should know you…and George."

"What? You think he's all cured, he's better now? He's bluffing! Why can't anyone see that?" said Mitchell, sneering at her.

"That noise- that noise he made…it was so scared. It was horrible. It was so…so human," said Annie, shuddering.

"But he's not human! He's far from it," hissed Mitchell.

"You're one to talk," said Nina venomously.

"George, you understand, don't you?” said Mitchell, walking to George. “You know there's only one way."

"I can't do it, I can't do it," said George, shaking.

"Hey, hey, I'm not asking you to do anything. I'll do it. But it has to be done. You realize that?"

George started nodding.

“Yes, yes, yes.”

Nina stared at him, unable to understand what she’d just heard agreed to.

“Have you all gone completely insane?” said Nina in a loud voice. They all turned to stare at her. “What is going on inside your idiotic heads?”

“Nina, you, you weren’t there,” said George.

“Thank God, otherwise I might be acting like a lunatic as well. That man is clearly terrified and no one is staking him until we figure out what’s going on. I don’t suppose any of you thought to get answers from the two vampires who showed up on our doorstep? Or were you too busy breaking the furniture and crying like babies?”

“Nina’s right,” said Annie, visibly calming.

“But he’s come back from the dead!” said George like a little kid in a cemetery.

Mitchell started at that and narrowed his eyes before nodding shortly at Nina.

“We should find out what Daisy and Cara are doing here and how they brought him back. Then we can kill him.”

“Mitchell,” Nina said, “do you remember coming in here not an hour ago, completely broken up about having to stake a vampire? Do you?”

“This is different,” he said.

“I can see it’s not the same, but maybe, just maybe, you should think about this rationally. You’re clearly upset and not thinking straight.”

“No,” he said coldly. “No, he’s my responsibility. You don’t know him, Nina, and I pray you never do. Now back the hell down.”

“No, not until I hear an actual reason.”

Mitchell froze and then spoke very slowly.

"Nina, William Herrick has achieved something that nobody else has managed to do. He's a vampire at the very height of his power and every second he grows stronger. Now he can't hurt Annie. Not me, not now, things have changed. You, George, and the baby, Herrick will annihilate you."

"Oh, you're doing this for us? How selfless," she said spitefully.

"You think I'm enjoying this?"

"I think there's a poison in you which has nothing to do with being a vampire so yeah, I think you do enjoy it."

"I'm gonna do what needs doing because I don't need your permission for anything," he answered, his tone hard.

Nina felt irrational anger surging inside and she wanted to claw at his face.

“You will kill him over my dead body,” she said. “You make choices like this with a clear head and when people deserve them. Not a second before or under any other circumstances.”

Mitchell didn’t even look at her, striding back into the living room.

Annie gave Nina an apologetic glance before hurrying after him. George remained slumped against the table for a second before getting up slowly like an old man.

Nina stared at him in disgust before leaving to make sure Mitchell didn’t snap and kill anyone.

***

Annie ran after Mitchell and flinched herself when she saw Herrick scramble to get as far away from Mitchell as possible. Mitchell ignored Herrick, however, and strode to the front door and gestured curtly.

“Get in,” he said. 

Daisy raised her eyebrows.

“Not sure I want to with an invitation like that.”

Cara, however, pushed past Mitchell and hurried in to the front room.

“Oh, my sweet, what’s he done to you?” she asked Herrick, kneeling in front of him.

He shied away from her just as much as he did Mitchell, Annie noticed. Cara didn’t seem to care, running her hands over him as if to reassure herself he was still there.

“You’re making me sick,” said Mitchell, coming into the room.

“Don’t be rude to the poor thing,” said Daisy, strolling in behind him.

“We’re all going to sit down and have a nice friendly chat,” said Mitchell. “Then I’m gonna stake the poor bastard and you’re going to get the hell out of Barry if you want to avoid the same fate.”

“You’ve been throwing your weight around a bit too much,” said Daisy, baring her teeth at him. “I’m not going to play nice much longer.”

“Mitchell, please,” said Annie, putting her hand lightly on his arm. “I know this is hard, but you’re making it worse.”

His arm was tense under her touch, but she held it there for a moment and gradually he relaxed slightly.

“Just tell us what this is all about,” he said to Daisy.

“I see someone’s got a soothing touch,” said Daisy, planting herself on top of the bar, spreading her legs a little too much. “Well, the long and short is that when you didn’t come back, Mitchell, I got all worried and went looking for you.”

George and Nina were standing back by the kitchen and Annie hovered in the room between the werewolves and the vampires like a spectator. At least, that’s what she felt like.

“You weren’t worried,” said Mitchell.

“Cross my heart, I was,” said Daisy, looking about as innocent as a fox. “But you weren’t, were you? You went white hat again, didn’t you, with nary a thought to your poor Daisy. Well, I didn’t find you, but I did find Cara, bricked up and toothless. That was nasty, Mitchell, I almost approve.”

“I don’t want or need your approval, thanks,” he said.

“I couldn’t feed,” said Cara. “I can’t feed. Daisy has to get ‘em for me and all the fun’s gone out of it.”

“Punishment’s not supposed to be fun,” Mitchell said, crossing his arms.

Annie had to look away from them. What they were talking about…it was horrible.

“This is all very nice,” said George, moving forward, “but someone tell me how…that,” he said, pointing at Herrick, “happened.”

“Cara was a wee bit desperate,” said Daisy. “You understand, Mitchell. So once she’d gotten all full and warm, she went a-hunting for bones, wanting her sweet Herrick back.”

“You brought him back?” asked Nina. “How?”

“That would be telling,” said Daisy. “Still, something went wrong as you can see. He’s not himself. We’ve tried blood, but he won’t take it. A bit squeamish. So naturally we’ve come to the great John Mitchell for advice.”

“How’d you find me?” he asked shortly.

“You weren’t that hard to find,” said Daisy. “Not for fellow vampires. Cara sent a little scout out in advance.”

Mitchell nodded as if that made sense somehow. Annie could only assume Daisy meant Graham.

“I’m not gonna help you,” Mitchell said. “Herrick deserves nothing but death.”

“Do you mind not having this conversation right in front of him?” asked Nina.

Cara nodded.

“My poor Herrick’s been through enough on account of you. He needs his rest.”

“I don’t wanna go,” said Herrick, looking at Cara. He pointed at Nina. “I want her.”

Cara’s face fell.

“You don’t know me, precious?”

“You’re all wrong,” said Herrick. “I don’t understand any of this. I want her.”

Nina walked to him and held out her hand and he grasped it like a lifeline.

“I’m going to draw you a nice, warm bath,” she said. “The rest of you…stay here,” she said pointedly to Mitchell and Cara.

Cara began to cry, sinking down on the couch. Nina took Herrick upstairs, George trailing behind until she gave him a look.

Daisy hopped off the bar and flopped onto the couch by Cara.

“There, there, Cara. Mitchell will make it all better, whether he wants to or not.”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” said Mitchell, moving forward menacingly, but he never got a chance to finish his sentence.

Static filled everyone’s ears and Annie felt instantly afraid, moving closer to George and holding onto his hand.

“Hello, hello, is this thing on?” came a voice. The telly popped on and Lia’s voice and face filled the screen. “Hello!” She studied all the people bunched in the room. “Sorry, is this a bad time?”

“Yes,” muttered Mitchell, but not very loudly.

Lia’s face turned hard.

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quite hear it.”

“What do you want, Lia?” interrupted Annie, feeling less afraid.

She could handle Lia.

Lia was all smiles again.

“Well, we were worried about you, Annie. Big spikes of distress issuing from you lately.”

“I’m fine. Please leave me alone,” said Annie.

“The affairs of the really dead are so boring,” said Daisy, leaning back with a sigh.

“This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening,” said George.

“You must be George,” said Lia brightly. “I’m ever so glad to meet you. I hear nothing but good things.”

“Hi,” said George hoarsely.

“Well, what’s up then?” asked Lia, leaning forward with her chin in her hands. “Looks exciting and I need to get my kicks now somehow.”

“We’re a little bit busy,” said George

“Maybe I can help?”

“It’s about me, do you want to help now?” asked Mitchell.

“Temper, temper,” said Lia. “I guess you can’t chalk everything up to mind games anymore, but that’s no reason to pout. I did warn you.”

“What’s she driveling about?” asked Daisy.

“Mitchell’s imminent death,” said Lia as if she was talking about getting ice cream.

Daisy leaned forward and Mitchell gave Lia a look of annoyance.

“Death? Oh, how horrible,” said Daisy. “Do tell.”

“Mitchell, do you want me to tell?” asked Lia.

“No, thanks,” he said. “I’m good.”

“Oh,” said Lia. “Well, then, I guess there’s nothing to say.”

“Cheers,” he said dismissively.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” said Lia. “Too long in the mortal world and you’re already forgetting everything you saw. There’s always an excuse with you and in the end that’s what’s going to rip your head off and drag you to hell.”

Mitchell stood still as if she’d stabbed him. Annie felt a current of white-hot anger inside and stepped forward, standing right in front of the television.

“Switch off,” she said hotly and the telly went instantly black.

“Annie!” whispered George.

“Neat trick,” said Daisy.

Mitchell simply relaxed as if he’d been holding the weight of the world.

“What the hell is going on now?” asked Nina, coming back in.

“I need a drink,” said George, rubbing his head.

“That’s a great idea, George,” Daisy said, rolling her rs in what seemed to Annie to be an entirely unnecessary fashion, sauntering toward him while he shied away and then swatted him on the bottom before sliding into the bar area. “What’s everyone want?”

George turned scarlet and hurried over to Nina. 

“Well, um, yes, this is all very interesting,” he said. “But we still need to decide what to do. Who’s for a vote? Shall we let them stay and try and help Herrick or do we kick 'em out? Vote? Good idea. Yes, let’s vote.”

“Well, I vote for helping them,” said Nina.

“Yes, me too, yes, absolutely,” said George.

Everyone stared at him for a second.

“You’re mad,” said Mitchell, but he didn’t sound as convinced as he was before. 

Annie was curious as to why Mitchell suddenly felt it was okay to keep Herrick around when before he’d been acting like a homicidal maniac. Was it because of Lia?

“I vote we keep them around,” she said. “Just until we figure things out.”

Nina nodded and spoke to Daisy and Cara briskly.

“He’s having a bath, but I’ll put him in the attic. You both can stay in the extra bedroom. But let me make one thing very clear. Our house, our rules. You do not kill while you’re under this roof, is that understood?”

“I like her, George,” said Daisy, licking her lips again. “It almost makes me wonder.”

“What?” said George, his voice nervous. “What?”

“We’ll see how it goes,” Daisy said, putting her head sideways and winking at George. “I’ll keep Cara in line for now. But, Mitchell, this all ends one way.”

Mitchell nodded shortly and Annie wondered what they’d just agreed to.

The meeting ended with Nina supervising Daisy and Cara’s induction into the house and George being forcibly sent to help Herrick should he need it.

Mitchell vanished into the attic and Annie thought about going after him but she didn’t want to fight just then and she suspected that’s what would happen. She couldn’t blame him for being upset and she was angry herself. Weren’t they dealing with enough without their combined worst nightmare coming back to haunt them?

Well, one thing was clear; Lia’s call couldn’t have been a coincidence. Annie would have to do something about that.

***

Mitchell paced the attic trying to get himself under control. He’d never considered having to deal with seeing Herrick again, but the instant he had, the fear had been completely overwhelming. The others couldn’t understand. They knew Herrick, but not like Mitchell, no one knew Herrick like Mitchell. He’d been Herrick’s pet for almost a century and had witnessed every mood, every whim, every advance against humanity.

They didn’t know how subtle Herrick was, how persuasive, how charming, how deadly. Mitchell could feel the pull inside himself, even now, to reach out and grasp hold of whatever Herrick was offering. It was more than just the normal bond between a vampire and their sire, it was something uniquely Herrick’s that Mitchell had never been able to resist for long. So, yes, he was desperately afraid.

Whether Herrick had really lost his memory Mitchell didn’t know, but any form of Herrick was dangerous. Nina might think she was protecting them all from further black marks against their morality, but Mitchell couldn’t see it the same way. All he could think about when he first saw Herrick was getting rid of the danger.

But Lia’s conveniently timely interruption into the proceedings had reminded Mitchell of his untimely death - a death that Herrick had survived. Somehow that could not be a coincidence. The other side had allowed Herrick to be brought back exactly when Mitchell needed a method for surviving death. What were they trying to prove and why? Wasn’t the point for him to be tortured and have everything taken away? Maybe it was to give him hope only to snatch it back. That was probably it, yet it was too late for realization. Hope was already burgeoning inside him. He wanted to know the secret and now that Daisy knew about the prophecy, she’d withhold that information. What the hell was he going to do?

On a perverse note, he was glad there were now more vampires in the house than werewolves. It provided a certain comfort level that at least numbers wise he was in the clear. Not that he could count on the three that he did have. What he wouldn’t give for a few vampires like Carl or even Ivan. Ivan was the only one who had any luck in controlling Daisy and especially with what Mitchell had witnessed between George and Daisy, the last thing any of them needed was for Daisy to start acting out. 

Somehow he had to get control of the situation. He’d lost himself for a moment or two in panic and anger, he could admit that. He’d scared Annie, pissed off Nina, and thoroughly confused George. He didn’t want to be that person to them. He was only just starting to get control of himself again and now this had to happen. It truly wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t have to deal with this - was it only earlier today he’d staked Graham?

No matter how he felt about the situation he was out of options that didn’t involve compromise. Either he had to string Daisy and Cara along enough to get the secret of true immortality out of them and then stake Herrick, or turn them away and deal with the inevitability of his own death. The first option meant he’d be putting everyone in danger and the second was terrifying.

It felt like no matter what he did or where he went Mitchell was faced with these kinds of decisions. He couldn’t just live a normal life with normal decisions about paying the mortgage on time or picking up milk on the way home. He had to make life and death decisions that marked and cursed whatever soul he had left.

Quinn had told him, standing by the riverside only a few months ago, that the end doesn’t justify the means. Sacrificing your morality to save other people wasn’t noble, it just meant you were perpetuating the cycle of evil. It wasn’t always about monsters, nothing was clear cut. When Mitchell had made a deal with the police commissioner, he’d been saving humanity from a worse evil, but part of that very same humanity had killed an innocent kid to protect him. It was all so muddled and he hated every one of his choices.

He wanted to run again, but that wasn’t an option. His problems would keep following him, there were werewolves all around the world, and he would be hurting the people he loved. None of these thoughts were helping him get himself under control.

He flopped down on the bed and sat with his head in his hands. He needed to calm down. There was too much at stake. He let his gaze wander over the attic and he stopped cold. There was a playhouse left in the corner, colored magnetic letters stuck to the side. They spelled out words he could just make out. He strode over and dropped to his knees.

_Wolf-shaped bullet._

He hastily scattered the letters and then stood up. He had to figure out Herrick’s secret. Whatever else was going to happen - well, he’d deal with it as it came.

He was playing into someone’s hand, someone, somewhere, but his hands literally shook, and he didn’t know how to stop.

“Someone help me,” he whispered to the air.

He didn’t expect anyone to answer him. No one did. He might have friends, but he was alone, because if he didn’t know the answer, nothing they said was going to help. The only thing telling them would accomplish would be shifting the burden to their shoulders. Annie already tried to fix everything even when she couldn’t. George had Nina and the baby to think about. Nina had the wrong mindset to even approach the problem.

Mitchell took a deep breath and then proceeded downstairs to deal with whatever came next.


	9. Chapter 9

It had been a nightmarish couple of days. George came down the stairs from the attic, the feeling of being in the same room with Herrick crawling on his skin. Nina followed him. She slumped on to the steps and he stopped.

“Are you okay?”

They hadn’t really talked for awhile. She’d been pulling a lot of shifts at work to make up for being sick and someone was always stationed at the house to make sure that the vampires were kept under control. George hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep lately between making sure Mitchell didn’t stake Herrick, Herrick didn’t use his crazy to expose them all, and Daisy and Cara didn’t go on some kind of killing spree from sheer boredom.

Nina rubbed her temple.

"Before, in the kitchen, you agreed to murder."

He started, because that had been days ago, and he’d been hoping they could forget everything that happened that day. Certainly he didn’t want to talk about it but it was obviously staying in her mind until they did.

"It's not the same," he said quietly.

"No thought, no question. Just agreed."

George felt an irrational surge of irritation. She couldn’t know how terrifying this was, how hard it was to look into the face of the man he’d killed. Every part of George was questioning this. Really, it was too much to ask, to be rational in the face of a situation like this. The woman he'd cheated with on one hand, someone he'd killed on the other, while his pregnant girlfriend stood in the middle.

"Look, I know this is really hard for you to understand, you weren't really there, but Herrick…is dangerous."

"He wasn't the one looking dangerous to me.” He didn’t want to hear her talk about how crazy Mitchell had been. George had seen that for himself. “We're going to have a baby,” she continued. “I don't want our baby to have a father who sticks his fingers-"

He interrupted her, beginning to leave.

"I'm not listening to this."

"-in his ears and agrees to murder like it's nothing."

He wheeled around.

“You think it’s nothing? Out of the two of us, which one has actually committed murder? I know what it is, Nina, don’t tell me, don’t you dare tell me I don’t know.”

She stood up.

“I watched you do it, George, I understand well enough. I know what it’s like to want to watch the world burn around you, but I can’t let myself be that.”

“I changed my mind, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Yes, but not for the right reasons, I can see that. I don’t know why you did, but it certainly wasn’t because you agreed with me.”

“Vampires are dangerous,” he said, “isn’t that what you always say? Well, Herrick’s the worst of them all.”

“Well, don’t you always say we need to judge people based on what they do? I’m trying. Herrick hasn’t done anything. Maybe he has in the past, but clearly something’s happened and he doesn’t remember. I’m not going to condemn that shivering, pathetic man based on something he can’t even remember.”

“Now you start listening, great,” he said, throwing his hands up. “It’s not the same. Herrick is different.”

“We don’t get to pick and choose who’s different,” she said quietly. “You don’t get to have Mitchell and then treat everyone else by different standards.”

“It’s not the same thing,” he said again.

“The hell it isn’t,” she said loudly. “I look at Cara and Daisy and I want to rip their throats out. Something inside me longs to bathe in their blood and eradicate the threat I sense in them.”

“It’s just that we’ll be transforming tonight,” he said weakly.

“No, no, no,” came a new voice as Daisy sauntered onto the landing. “Baby, that’s inside you all the time.”

“Go away, Daisy,” George said, squeaking.

“That’s not what you said before,” she said, smirking at him.

“I-I, don’t know…what you mean,” he said, going for casual.

This was the very last thing he needed right now, to have Nina and Daisy in the same room. He regretted having been with Daisy every second of every day, but this was not the time to have that particular folly brought into the light.

Nina was already looking like she wanted to murder him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” said Daisy, pouting. “After all we’ve been through.”

“How’s your daughter?” he practically shouted.

Daisy stopped cold and he regretted bringing it up. Daisy had never seemed like the type to forgive easily. 

“Died a few weeks back,” said Daisy. “Natural causes, I’m afraid.”

“I’m, I’m sorry,” he said.

Nina got up from where she’d sunk to the stairs again and pushed past them, obviously annoyed.

“Don’t go,” said Daisy. “We were just getting to the good part.”

“You don’t get to talk to me,” said Nina, stepping close to her.

“Fine, I’ll just talk to Georgie there. Reminisce on all the good times.”

“You clearly want to say something,” said Nina, “so just say it and get it over with.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Daisy innocently. “I wear my heart on my sleeve, open for all to see.”

“That’s not all you wear open,” said Nina.

“I haven’t had any complaints yet,” said Daisy. “George certainly never did.”

“Shall we all go downstairs?” said George desperately.

Nina’s face started to twitch and George got the feeling she was catching on. Nina stepped closer to Daisy and then sniffed the air.

“The perfume,” she said in the quiet voice that usually meant she was about to unleash her rage. “You stink of it. That morning,” she said, turning to George, “that morning I told you what happened. You reeked of her perfume.”

“I don’t, don’t know what-”

“Then you had the gall to accuse me of fancying Mitchell. George, you’re the most despicable bastard I’ve ever met. I honestly don’t know what goes on in your head. Do you just do whatever flits inside it next?”

“Nina, I’m sorry,” said George. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“Now I’m hurt,” said Daisy, but she was smiling and George knew it was revenge for bringing up her daughter. “But I see I’ve caused somewhat of a disturbance. I had no idea Nina didn’t know, George. I’ll just let you two work it out.”

She turned and sauntered downstairs.

“There’s nothing to work out,” said Nina, pushing past George. “We’re done here.”

“Nina, wait,” said George, catching her arm. “Let me, let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” said Nina, tears falling down her face. “George, you let me live with you and you were… I thought I’d finally made the right choice, but maybe it was just the same choice all over again.”

He felt his heart shatter, but then, her face…

“Don’t say that. Nina.”

“I needed you,” Nina said. “I _need_ you, but it’s never about me. It’s about Mitchell or Annie or bloody Daisy. About what _you_ did to me, about what _you’re_ going through.” She stopped, shaking her head in disbelief. “I had to comfort you. You’re selfish, self-obsessed, and right when I needed you the most, you cheated on me. You are pathetic and low and the worst specimen of a man I’ve ever seen.”

Every word she said made it feel like he was dying, but somewhere inside him, he knew it was his own fault. He didn’t want to accept that. If he did, then everything would break all over again.

“It was about the wolf, Nina,” George said weakly.

“Yeah, convenient,” she said. “You can have the cellar tonight. I’m leaving.”

“Nina, no. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No!” she said, wheeling on him. “I get to leave and you don’t get a say.”

“The baby,” he tried again.

“You should’ve thought of that before,” she said. “Maybe I’ll let you know if it survives the night. Maybe I won’t, because that news might just hurt you unnecessarily and we can’t have that.”

She pushed past him to their room and grabbed her ready-made transformation bag and went downstairs. George followed her after a second, unable to accept this being the end of everything.

“Nina, what’s going on?” asked Annie. “You were shouting.”

“I’m leaving,” said Nina. “You guys can play vampires and werewolves until you tear yourselves apart, but I can’t do it anymore. Not with that thing in the house,” she said, pointing at Daisy. “Not with him,” she said, not even looking at George.

“Nina, I’m sorry, wait,” said George.

She left without saying another word.

“George, what happened?” asked Annie.

“I slept with Daisy, Nina found out,” said George.

“You what?” asked Annie.

“It was before,” said George, not really feeling like explaining.

“Where’s she going?” asked Mitchell.

“To the woods,” said George, putting his face over his hands.

“She shouldn’t be alone. Not with the baby,” said Mitchell.

“She won’t talk to me,” said George.

“I’m going,” said Annie and rent-a-ghosted away.

George felt a slight rush of gratitude toward Annie and sank down on the floor.

Mitchell and Daisy stood above him, one sorrowful, the other mocking.

George rubbed his face trying to put together what had just happened.

He’d met Daisy less than a year before but the events of being with her…it was all a blur. There had been so much anger, so much frustration, flooding him at the time. He couldn’t, even now, blame what he’d done on Nina, despite the fact that she’d been avoiding him like the plague at the time.

But he had been going through a lot back then. His nighttime visions had been filled with blood and sinew and bone, Herrick’s screams echoing in the air. His waking days had been filled with anxious hovering from Annie, Mitchell’s gradual drifting, and Nina’s determined distance. It had been hell and just unleashing himself had been the only outlet for that pain.

For a person so long downtrodden, forced to run and hide, continually suppressing his own urges, the rush of power that had shuddered through him after knowing he’d killed a man, made him both sick and elated. He’d been aggressive, moody, and raring to fight. Sometimes he’d felt invincible.

Daisy had been like a siren song, calling for him to dash himself on the rocks. For awhile he’d listened because it was so much better than the weary routine of feeling unloved and feeling powerless. The moments when he’d been pounding into her had been liberating. But that had all ended…ended the moment Nina had told him what happened.

He’d walked through that day in a blur, her words repeating over and over in his head. _You gave it to me, George._ He could never forgive himself for that. Suddenly, shagging a vampire seemed a petty sin in comparison to damning Nina to the same hell he’d been living in for three years. It was true, he’d held on to her, sobbing, while she’d given him absolution he didn’t deserve. 

But none of this, none of it would have happened if George hadn’t been wrapped up in a world of supernatural intrigue, in danger because of who he was and who he lived with. Herrick had gone after him because of Mitchell. George had killed Herrick in the first place because of Mitchell. Daisy had come to town because of what George had done. It was all one vicious cycle of choices that seemed to draw back to one choice.

“George, I’m sorry, mate,” said Mitchell, thrusting a glass under his nose.

“This is all your fault,” George said wearily.

“How is this my fault?” asked Mitchell. “I’m not the one that slept with Daisy.”

“Well, that’s not true,” said Daisy.

George sputtered and looked up.

“When I was with someone else,” amended Mitchell. “George, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I’m right here,” said Daisy.

“Would you go wrangle Cara or something?” said Mitchell, sounding annoyed.

“No way, this is too good,” said Daisy, hopping back onto the bar.

“I never would have even met her if it wasn’t for you,” said George angrily.

“No, you’d be dead,” said Mitchell. “Also, you probably wouldn’t have met Nina either. So, which would you rather have?”

“I-I killed Herrick for you,” said George, raising a ragged face to Mitchell. “It…changed me.”

“I begged you to let me do it,” said Mitchell. “I warned you.”

“I, didn’t, didn’t understand,” said George. “I keep…changing. It’s never sleeping, and I always pay the consequences. I just…”

“Hey, I get that more than anyone,” said Mitchell. “But you taught me to accept the blame for my actions. Maybe you need to do the same. Nobody forced you to sleep with Daisy and I tried to keep you from running after her that night.”

“You’re not helping,” growled George, fighting the urge to take a swing at Mitchell. “Nina’s gone.”

“She can’t stay gone,” said Mitchell. “It’s not safe for her out there, she’ll realize that. But it’s up to you to convince her to stay and that won’t be done by taking cheap shots at me and Daisy.”

“Mitchell’s right, honey,” said Daisy. “But that doesn’t mean it’s what you have to do. You’ve had a taste of what it’s like to let go, isn’t that better than wallowing in the mud?”

“Then tell me why you let your daughter live!” roared George.

Daisy smiled.

“I wanted to be able to feel. The older you get,” her eyes looked past them, “the more you can’t feel. My Ivan couldn’t feel at all except through me. You have to find someone, find something to tether you to the feelings.”

“So losing Nina is supposed to help with that?” George asked.

“Not at all,” said Daisy. “I’m not trying to help you. I’m simply telling you facts. What you do with them is your choice and my pleasure to watch.”

“You’re nothing,” said George.

“Once I was everything,” said Daisy enigmatically. “If Nina means anything at all to you like I meant to Ivan, then you’re the one who’s nothing.” She stretched luxuriously. “Well, I left Cara sleeping, but the poor thing’s gonna be up and at Herrick soon enough. Best stand guard and all that.”

Mitchell sat down beside George as Daisy left. 

“Can I get you anything?” he asked finally.

“You sound like Annie,” muttered George.

Mitchell laughed slightly.

“Thanks, but, seriously, can I?”

“I need to think,” said George.

“Okay. I’m here if you need me. Just…don’t forget about the moon,” said Mitchell, a touch of panic in his voice.

George couldn’t. He could feel it, traveling closer and closer. It was some hours still before it would be here, but George felt it. It hammered inside his skull, whispering of freedom and no consequences. He already wanted to kill every last vampire in the house. These choices were eating away at his conscience.

George wanted normality, he wanted a life, and he wanted Nina and their child. But…he wanted to reconcile his demons. It felt like the power and the rage the wolf fueled were simply extensions of his own emotions. If he were to lose that now, it would be a loss. Even more devastating would be the loss of Annie and Mitchell. They were his friends, his family, the only people who knew him as he truly was. He felt lost without them.

But without Nina he felt dead. It was like the strength to lift his limbs had been taken from him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and could barely think. So, in light of that knowledge, he stopped making excuses and he just felt…shame, such shame, and he wanted nothing more than her forgiveness. Nothing more than her love. Whatever it was he would lose, it was not worth losing her. She was worth everything. A hundred Mitchells and a hundred Annies and a million Daisys. She was worth more than anything the wolf could ever give him; more than a normal life could ever give him.

He thought about what Daisy said then, about how Ivan couldn’t feel. Maybe one could learn to feel from other people’s example. Ivan had loved Daisy enough to come after George, had loved Mitchell enough to save him. Maybe nobody was hopeless. That didn’t solve George’s problem, but it renewed his faith in the idea that love was important and that taking care of the people you loved was important. George had been taking care of Annie and Mitchell, or letting them take care of him, for too long. Nina had to be his everything and not out of guilt but out of choice.

He hadn’t truly made that conscious decision before, but now he did, maybe when it was too late. The wolf was howling inside him for justice, for punishment, but there was one thing George knew the wolf agreed with him about, that was their love for Nina. Everything else was inconsequential. He had to give her a full explanation and apology if nothing else. They were on the verge of changing, with no idea of what it would do to their unborn child. He had to be there.

George got up. He was going after her.

***

It didn’t take Annie long to find Nina. She was out of town, going toward the woods.

“Nina, wait,” she said.

“Go back, Annie,” said Nina, still walking.

“You can’t be out here on your own, it’s not safe.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the scariest thing for miles,” Nina said numbly.

“What about the baby?”

“Either it will die or it will live. Any way it goes, the baby doesn’t have a father anymore.”

“Nina, I-I can’t begin to imagine that pain, well, I can, it happened to me, but, but just striking off on your own isn’t going to help. What if something happens to you? You’re pregnant, you need help.”

“And you’re going to give it to me?” asked Nina, stopping and looking at Annie. “Let’s face it, Annie, if it’s a choice between me and George, you’re going to pick him.”

“That’s not true,” said Annie, feeling hurt. “I love George, but he’s hurt you. That’s not right.”

“No, not even a little bit,” said Nina. “But I can’t stay there, Annie.”

“Because of George?”

“Because of the whole situation. We just invited three new vampires into our lives.”

“You were the one who wanted Herrick helped.”

“I didn’t want him killed,” said Nina. “That doesn’t mean I want to open a supernatural hostel.”

“So why did you vote to let him stay?”

Nina stopped and sat down on a rock, sighing.

“Annie, the war inside me to keep from destroying everything is a vicious one. I see the world differently now and every day the desire for violence is stronger. Every day I’ve been pregnant…it gets stronger. So I know there are two wolves inside of me now and I don’t have the strength to fight them both. Not at the same time we’ve got four vampires prancing around. But…at the same time, I couldn’t just let Mitchell stake someone who had no idea what was going on. It’s the lesser of two evils maybe, I don’t know.”

Annie listened with a rising dread. It was true; ever since she’d been pregnant Nina had been grumpier, curt, and less inclined for bonding. Perhaps that couldn’t be put up to just hormones. Especially because even Annie’s untrained eye could see Nina was getting bigger much faster than she should be. Either that or she was having a whole litter.

“I’m sorry,” said Annie. “I wish I could tell you things would change, but as far as I can tell, there is no normal life, no life that we used to have, for any of us. That’s not going to change if you leave us.”

“I know,” said Nina, putting her hand to her head, “but I need it to be more normal. I can’t raise a baby like this. I don’t even know if I can raise one at all.”

“Nina…”

“I know that’s not what you want to hear, but, Annie, I’m terrified. Now I’m terrified and alone. So…just leave me alone.”

“No,” said Annie. “I’m not leaving you by yourself. Mitchell said it wasn’t safe and I believe him.”

“You always do,” said Nina.

“What does that mean?”

“Annie, you can’t hide your feelings from me.”

Annie blushed.

“What-what feelings? I don’t…know…what you mean.”

“You’re a piss poor liar,” said Nina wryly. “I don’t blame you, but be careful, Annie.”

“I am,” said Annie. “I’m not going to say anything.”

“Good,” said Nina.

“This isn’t about me,” said Annie, “this is about you.”

“Yeah, for once,” said Nina. “I cannot…go back to the house if the vampires are still there.”

“Then we’ll make them leave,” said Annie.

“Oh, Mitchell will go for that, I’m sure,” said Nina, laughing scornfully. “Idiot doesn’t know what he wants, a cure for dying is dangling in front of him and yet he’s so terrified of the past he wants to kill it at the same time.”

Annie stopped for a second and thought about that.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’ve been ignoring the prophecy for too long. Time I did something about it.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Nina, as if there was nothing to be done.

A voice sounded behind them. Annie turned and was both glad and sorry to see George, huffing for breath behind them.

“Nina,” he said, doubling over.

“Piss off, George,” said Nina flatly.

“Maybe this isn’t a good time,” said Annie nervously.

George shook his head.

“No, I have to. Nina, I’m sorry, I’m wrong, I’m crap, I’m everything awful, but don’t leave…it’s not safe. I’ll leave or, or something, but…the baby, has to be safe.”

“I think the baby’s in equal danger whether I transform here or in the cellar,” said Nina quietly. “Mitchell’s prophecies notwithstanding.”

“What prophecies?” asked George and Annie together.

Nina rolled her eyes.

“I’m not explaining now. Ask him if you want to, but I can’t handle this right now.”

“Annie,” said George, turning to her, “could you give us a bit of privacy, please?”

Annie turned to Nina, not about to leave them alone if Nina didn’t want her to.

“Nina?”

Nina didn’t say anything for a moment or two.

“It’s okay,” she finally said. “Annie, don’t leave Mitchell alone with the vampires.”

“Are you sure?” asked Annie. “He’s been a gigantic prat and I don’t mind saying so.”

“Annie!” said George.

“You have,” she said, swatting at his arm.

“I know,” he said, glaring at her.

“Annie, we might as well have…it all out,” said Nina. “We’re going to transform soon anyway. I can just as well rip his head off out here.”

Annie didn’t know what to think of that so she flung her arms around George and then Nina.

“Be careful,” she said and rent-a-ghosted back home.

Herrick was playing with a train set in the attic. Daisy was doing her nails while Cara paced. Mitchell was sitting at the bottom of the stairs with his head in his hands.

Annie didn’t let any of them see her. She instead got the small handheld television set George had in his room and went to the basement.

For a few minutes she simply looked at it in fear. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this, but she had to figure out what was going on.

She set it down in the corner and sat opposite it. Reaching inside herself as Sykes had taught her, she turned on the telly.

“Lia,” she said hoarsely and then cleared her throat. “Lia, get the hell down here,” she said in a more authoritative voice.

Static sounds filled the air for a moment or two before Lia’s face appeared.

“Annie, I guess you’re not so okay, after all. What can I do, pet?”

“You can shut up unless you want to tell me what the hell that was about just now,” Annie said.

“I already told you,” said Lia innocently.

Annie shook her head.

“No, see I don’t believe you. You’re part of this, whatever it is. You called at exactly the right time. You wanted to remind Mitchell he’s going to die. You’ve got a vested interest in that, I know, but somehow I don’t think your pay grade is pulling the strings.”

Lia leaned back.

“Well, that is an interesting theory. I’ll have to bring it up at the next meeting. But…Annie, believe me, apart from me wanting to see him in the worst pain possible, we have no interest in Mitchell whatsoever. We’re far more interested in you.”

The idea sent chills up and down Annie’s spine, but she kept control.

“Why?” she asked calmly. “I know I’m supposed to be different and that I've messed up the administrative cogs and all, but there’s nothing special about me.”

“Annie, love,” said Lia, “you’re the most interesting ghost I’ve ever seen. You’ve actually been visible.”

“About that,” said Annie, interested in spite of herself, “how come?”

Lia shrugged her shoulders.

“Not supposed to happen. But you just pull out all the stops, don’t you? Occasionally it happens when someone’s resolving their unfinished business, but never just because. Your attachment to life was so strong that you willed yourself visible. It’s amazing.”

“Why can’t I do it now?” asked Annie.

“Had to put the kebob on that,” said Lia, waggling her finger. “It was interesting to watch and all, but you just kept on breaking the rules, getting a job and dating people who were alive. Tsk, tsk.”

“What business is that of yours?” asked Annie.

“We control death,” said Lia like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You belong to us.”

Annie clenched her hands in anger.

“Then why let me go?”

“Procedures. We just love following the rules. You have to come through, preferably the right door.”

“No, there’s something else,” said Annie. “Why involve Mitchell at all?”

“Mitchell involved himself,” said Lia.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” said Annie. “If you want something with me, the best way to get it is to ask. I don’t like mind games, never have. I don’t think you’re being straight with me and I’m thinking…maybe I should speak to your boss.”

"You're not strong enough," Lia warned.

Annie paused before speaking very deliberately.

"I think about what and who I love and I think about them in danger and I could tear this bloody house down with my teeth. You have no idea how strong I am.”

“Maybe not,” said Lia, smiling and blinking out of view.

A creeping dread came over Annie and she saw something she both feared and had forgotten she feared.

The Gray Man.

“Annie,” he said, his voice grating. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“No,” she said, her voice shaking. “No, not you.”

“Aren’t you strong enough?” he asked mockingly.

Annie closed her eyes and thought of Mitchell sitting on the stairs.

“I’m stronger than even I know,” she said, feeling somewhat of that white hot rage she remembered feeling just before she’d gotten to Kemp. “Now you listen to me. Leave Mitchell alone.”

“What has been foretold cannot be untold,” he said.

“What’s been foretold?” she asked impatiently. “Everything’s so vague with you people.”

“A wolf has to complete their journey. Mitchell must face this for them.”

“What wolf? Why?”

“I do not know. I do not need to.”

“Who makes this prophecy?”

“It is simply made,” said the Gray Man.

“How did you find out about it then?” she asked.

“It is simply known,” he said.

“You’re full of crap,” she said, shaking her head.

“The prophecy is made, there is nothing to be done,” said the Gray Man. “But you can take your place among us. A special place has been prepared. You have proven yourself worthy.”

“No way,” said Annie.

“You can save yourself the pain,” said the Gray Man. “That is all.”

“I will never turn my back on the people I love,” said Annie. “I will stop this. You’ll see.”

“You are welcome to try,” said the Gray Man. “The men will be waiting for you.”

Annie shuddered and turned the telly off, curling herself up into a ball in the corner. She felt sick and if she had a body she would probably have been heaving; she was still angry and afraid, but she was also determined. Taking Kemp had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. But she’d do that a hundred times over if it meant protecting Mitchell. No matter what he’d done.

She couldn’t deny what she felt. She loved him, was in love with him, whatever anyone wanted to call it. What she’d felt and thought about Owen was meager compared to the fierce desire she had curling inside her gut. It didn’t matter if he didn’t feel the same way. It didn’t even matter if she told him or not. He’d saved her, now she was going to save him. Just as soon as she figured out how. 

***

As soon as Annie was gone, George turned to Nina and held out a placating hand.

“I-I know you’re not okay, but, how-how do you feel? I mean, with the baby…and the moon?”

Nina’s fury was still seething beneath her skin and if she had her claws out she’d be extremely tempted to try and rip his heart out of his chest so he could feel the way she was feeling. But there was something about the way he looked at her, the way his voice cracked, the way he’d come after her, that sent a calm through her. He always had that effect on her. George was probably the least safe man she’d ever been with in actuality, but he’d always made her feel safe. That comfort was stripped, but the calming effect was still there.

“I don’t know,” she said flatly. “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

George nodded and then spoke again.

“Nina, can you, can you let me explain what happened? I don’t want, I can’t, justify it, but you deserve the truth.”

“The sordid details of your love affair with Daisy McTramp, the vampire? No thank you,” she said.

“I don’t mean that,” said George, rubbing his face. “I just meant, how it happened at all. It’s not about her or, or you, it was…my fault, my…darkness.”

“It’s not about you, it’s about me?” Nina asked, rolling her eyes.

“We don’t have a normal relationship, Nina,” George said, his voice rising. “The normal rules don’t apply, or at least don’t make sense. Can’t you see that?”

“Oh, I see a lot of things now,” said Nina. “But, go on, explain to me what happened, tell me how you weren’t in control, how it was a one time thing.”

“It was,” said George. “I slept with her once. But even that’s not what I want to say.”

“What is it, George?” asked Nina, leaning back against her rock. “What could it possibly be?”

She closed her eyes and listened to him talk, sometimes angry, always sad, lost and directionless.

“None of this is your fault,” he said firmly. “I know you know that, but I just…mean that no matter what I say next, I’m not blaming you. Everything is my fault.”

“Got it in one,” she said crisply.

He paused and continued.

“Killing Herrick did something to me,” he said. “I-I liked it. There was power there. I wanted to rip the world apart. To not feel that way would be to feel the guilt. I had to keep that anger in place. It might have been different if I could have turned to someone but…Mitchell was wallowing, Annie was flitting about, you wouldn’t even look at me. Again, not your fault, but I felt wrong because of the way you treated me. I didn’t know why and I couldn’t understand why you refused to leave. It just…frustrated me and I wanted to feel something, to feel like I wasn’t the scum of the earth.”

“Good job with that,” she said, still not looking at him.

“Excellent,” he said glumly. “I was getting attacked. Every vampire out to make a name for themselves wanted to kill the great Herrick killer. I’ve always been weak, Nina, always, but for one moment I was powerful and then it was gone and I was weak again. They wanted to kill me and I couldn’t stop them. The latest was Daisy and I snapped. I wanted to kill her so I ran after her. Mitchell tried to stop me and I went anyway. Daisy was different…she wasn’t trying to kill me; not really, she…her problem is that she can’t settle. She needs something, always searching for the next thing. That’s what Ivan loved about her, I think. She decided I was her next thing, she kissed me.”

“I didn’t want the sordid details, remember?” said Nina, flinching.

“That’s all,” said George. “I went to transform the next day and I wanted it, wanted it so badly. I wanted to feel that power again. When I woke up, there Daisy was, talking about letting it all go, giving up the restraint. So I did.” He paused for a moment and then kept going, his voice trembling. “I came home and you told me what happened. I-I-I, it stripped it away. Nina, oh, Nina, I’d done to you what was tearing me apart. And I couldn’t do anything about it and, suddenly, that was much worse than anything I could ever do with Daisy.”

“We could take bets,” said Nina, opening her eyes and watching him.

He was hunched over, tears falling openly.

“I met Daisy again at the hospital,” said George. “She was going to kill her daughter. She’d already tried. She wanted to rip the last thing connecting her to her humanity apart. Nina, I couldn’t be her. I couldn’t be her. So I went to find you and…I’m so sorry. I don’t have an excuse, I was myself and that scares me. But…do you see how? I mean, how very little it meant, but how much it means that you’re…you’re everything. The wolf destroyed my life and yours, but somehow it cares about you too.”

“I know,” said Nina.

Her mind had gone far away back to the night she’d entered this world of supernatural lunacy. George’s eyes, staring at her through the face of a monster, her vision limited to the width of a peephole, blood dripping down her arm, the hair standing up on the back of her neck.

Mitchell’s and Annie’s frantic voices had quieted as Nina had stared at the wolf. He’d stared back, slowly pacing around the room. There was an electric connection through their eyes and she’d barely been able to move. There was something there, in those eyes, in that wolf, that recognized her, that wanted her. It had been terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. That, almost more than anything, had made her fight for their relationship.

She’d walked away. She’d felt that pull toward darkness, the same as what he’d just described. He’d indulged, she’d run. Neither of them had found peace. She wondered if that meant they were destined to ruin or if there was another answer somewhere in between.

“You do?” he asked, sudden hope in his voice.

“George,” she said, clearing her throat, “George, I can’t live like this.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Constantly bombarded,” she said. “I’m so tired. I’m about to have a baby and there are so many variables in that alone. Add in the wolf and your little affair and I want to scream and cry and throw things and just tear everyone’s throats out. I can’t live like this.”

He made a wounded sound in the back of his throat.

“Even if you walk away now,” he said, “those things will follow you.”

“They already have,” she said, gesturing to him. “I tried running away already and it didn’t work.”

“What will you do?” he asked.

Nina laughed slightly.

“What do you want me to do, George? What’s your brilliant solution?”

“I don’t have one,” he said. “You know that. But if you’re asking me what I want, it’s you. I want you and I want our child and I want a life together. If you want me to come with you now, that’s what I’ll do. If you want me to let you go, that’s what I’ll do, but, Nina…Nina, please don’t go.”

He caught his breath in a sob and she resisted the urge to comfort him. Too often had she done that.

“I can’t make a decision yet,” she said. “Everything rides on tonight.”

“If…if the baby lives?” George asked.

“And if it’s the messiah,” she said curtly.

“What?”

Nina sighed and explained to him everything Mitchell had told her. It really was the final piece in her decision because even if she couldn’t forgive George, she still had to think about the baby. If it survived then Mitchell’s words would take on a frightening reality and she’d have to consider what to do very carefully. Running off on her own, or even with George, might be just as dangerous as staying in a house full of vampires.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” George squawked. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“I asked him not to,” said Nina. “And I wanted to wait until after tonight just in case it was a moot point.”

“Lovely, just lovely,” he said throwing up his hands. “I don’t get included yet again.”

“George,” said Nina sharply, “you might want to think very carefully about your next words, especially if they’re about you being in the wrong.”

“Right,” he said, looking chastened. “Um, right. So…the baby.”

“We’ll just have to see,” said Nina. “Even if it survives, well, that doesn’t mean anything. We’ll have to wait and see what happens when it’s born.”

“We?” he asked hopefully.

Nina sighed.

“George, I’m…postponing judgment on that. Just wait till tomorrow, okay?”

He nodded, looking crestfallen. 

“Okay, okay. Just…I am so sorry, Nina. I would undo…all of it, if I could.”

“I believe you,” she said.

Whether that was enough for her heart, wounded and too many times trampled as it felt, was another question.

George looked up and shuddered.

“It’s coming,” he said.

“Go home,” she said.

“You should,” he argued.

“I’m not going anywhere near those vampires,” she said.

“Then we’re both staying here,” he said firmly.

“Is that safe?” Nina asked, even though she didn’t think there was a need.

“My wolf won’t ever hurt you,” said George. “We already know that.”

“I guess we do,” said Nina.

They talked longer, for at least another hour, until the moon came. There were too many things to explain and not enough time. Nina thought, somehow, even if they were to talk for the next week straight, they’d never say everything that needed to be said. Sometimes they were quiet and Nina appreciated that too. She needed time to think and process what George was saying, what she wanted to say in return. She loved him no less, but there was a raw pain inside of her that she didn’t think could ever go away.

When the moon rose, she didn’t tell him she loved him. She stood next to him, naked, and let the agony take her, without really knowing what she hoped was going to happen.

Somehow it was worse this time, because of the baby, maybe, she didn’t know. What she did know was that she hadn’t thought it could get worse.

When the blackness finally took her, she collapsed into her own mind gratefully and let herself fade away.

When Nina woke up again she was curled in George’s arms. He was still sleeping and she felt a jolt of affection before she remembered. She hastily removed herself before examining herself carefully. There was no blood anywhere, she felt exactly the same.

Relief and dread filled her. She didn’t know which was the more prominent. Of course, now that meant she had to make a decision of some kind. Further confirmation the baby was okay would have to be made, but she knew, she knew it was fine. So now what? Did she merrily traipse back to the house with George, hand in hand? Certainly not. She was not going back, not if the vampires were there. Yes, it was partially her fault that they were there, but she wouldn’t live with them. For her baby’s sake, for her own sanity, and she certainly wasn’t going to spend any time around Daisy.

She glanced down at George’s sleeping form while she dressed. Would he agree to that? Would he stand up to Mitchell? His decision would tell her a lot about what her own should be. Either way, whether she liked it or not, she was going to need Mitchell’s advice and experience about what to do next.

George stirred and then frantically looked around for her. The familiar sight was endearing.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, leaping up.

She held out her hand to keep him from hugging her.

“I think we’re both okay,” she said quietly. 

“Thank God,” he said, rubbing his hand over his head.

“I won’t live in that house with the vampires there,” she said quietly. “If you want to stay with me, and I’m not saying that’s what I want, not yet, then you have to make them leave.”

He stared at her for a minute or two and she watched the conflicting emotions cross his face.

“Does that include Mitchell?” he asked carefully.

“No, it doesn’t include your precious Mitchell,” said Nina.

“Okay,” he said finally.

Before they could say anything more Annie popped into view before them.

“Are you okay? I was worried, what happened? Is the baby okay? Are you two coming home? What’s going on?”

“We’re coming,” said Nina.

“Annie!” yelled George, reaching to cover himself.

“Oh, don’t be a sop,” said Annie, turning around anyway. “Right, so I’ll go home and let them know you’re coming. I’m so glad you’re okay, Nina.”

She winked out again and Nina had to laugh at the expression on George’s face.

She wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but at least she could laugh.

***

Mitchell was relieved when Annie finally came back and confirmed that George was with Nina and both of them were safe for the moment. The night wore away and Mitchell tried to sleep, but he mostly stood guard because he didn’t know what was going to happen. His choice was justified when Cara came barreling out of her room and made a run at the attic where Herrick had apparently discovered the joys of train sets.

Daisy wasn’t much help, just sat back and laughed while Mitchell forcibly dragged Cara down the stairs and thrust her onto the sofa. 

“You’re keeping my Herrick from me,” Cara said, crying. “I need him, Mitchell, and he needs me.”

“He seems pretty happy with his trains,” said Mitchell, folding his arms. “Now you’re going to tell me what happened.”

"He told me how and I followed it to the letter,” said Cara proudly. “But he don't know me. I've bled myself dry just so he can get a taste and remember, but all he does is scream."

Mitchell shuddered. He could well imagine it.

“That doesn’t help me know how he came back in the first place,” Mitchell said.

“What, you don’t know the secret yourself?” said Daisy. “Maybe Herrick didn’t trust his favorite, after all.”

“He’d be wise not to trust me after I left him, wouldn’t he?” said Mitchell, rolling his eyes at her.

He couldn’t help but feel the truth of what she was saying, however. Herrick had apparently known the secret of true immortality and never bothered to share it with Mitchell, despite all of his promises to make Mitchell his heir.

“You did, you left him all alone,” said Cara. “I’m the one what helped him, gave him everything, I did. So now it’s your turn.”

“How can I help if I don’t know what happened?”

Daisy idly slipped her nail file along her skin.

“Mitchell, you’re not fooling anyone. You just don’t want to die.”

“Yeah, thanks for bringing up the obvious,” he said.

Cara looked up and glanced sharply at Mitchell and then Daisy who gave her a reassuring nod. A look of understanding dawned across her vacant face and she leapt up.

"You help me with my darling, then we'll tell you the secret."

“That’s not the way it works, Cara,” he said.

“Mitchell, you know how it works,” said Daisy. “Give a little; it won’t kill you, might even save your life.”

She winked at him and Mitchell tried not to let his frustration show on his face.

She was right but then, she had no compunction about letting evil vampires roam the earth. He’d tried to leave, tried to just run away, but here they were, following him. First Graham, now these three. He literally couldn’t get away.

Annie came into the room and Cara hissed at her.

“What’s that about?” asked Annie. 

“Ignore her,” said Mitchell. “She’s just in a bad mood.”

“Cause you won’t help us,” said Cara. “Cause of her, that ghost, and those dogs.”

“Oh, Cara, the reasons I don’t want to help you are many and varied,” he assured her.

“Why would you want Herrick back anyway?” asked Annie. “He was horrible.”

“You don’t know him,” said Cara. “He rescued me.”

“How is that then?” asked Annie. 

"He come for me at night, after my shift. I locked up and took out the rubbish and there he was. He smiled at me and took me in his arms. He says I was his bride in glory and the world was all sparkles and gold."

Mitchell exchanged looks with Daisy who shrugged at him.

"A knee trembler by the bins. That would put stars in any girl's eyes," said Annie.

Cara glared at Annie.

"Herrick chose me because I was special. He made me a part of the master race. Everything I am is for him and he loves me."

Annie shook her head and held up her hands in surrender.

“If you say so. I just hope…you’re not wrong.”

“You’ll see, he’ll show all of you,” said Cara proudly.

“Can we get away from the true love forever talk?” said Daisy, her tone carefully flippant, but Mitchell caught the underlying pain in it.

He should be more sympathetic. Ivan had saved Mitchell’s life at the expense of his wife and that was going to dig at Daisy’s psyche for the rest of her very long existence. Ivan’s words about everyone deserving a Daisy always rested somewhere in the back of Mitchell’s mind, usually when he was looking at Annie, but that was neither here nor there.

There were bigger issues at hand.

“Herrick’s not gonna crack,” said Mitchell. “Even he would have slipped up by now if this was a bluff, so he’s just gone, Cara. Tough luck.”

“Tough luck on you finding out the secret to immortality,” said Cara.

“Doesn’t look like it works very well,” said Annie softly.

Mitchell had to agree with her, of course, that didn’t stop everything inside him from hoping it could help him.

“Blood didn’t work?” he asked Daisy pointedly.

“Nope,” she said. “He wouldn’t take it.”

“I said that,” said Cara. “My poor darling just screams and screams.”

“So he hasn’t actually had any blood?” asked Mitchell. Irrational anger flooded him. Why was this on him? “Didn’t you hold him down?”

“Part of the blood is the willingness for the blood,” said Daisy. “I think the horror’s too much.”

She might be right, but Mitchell had to try. Besides, it would give him great satisfaction to strike fear into Herrick, even if that wasn’t really Herrick. A blank calm washed over him, somehow horrifyingly similar to the feeling right before a kill.

“Maybe you just didn’t try hard enough,” said Mitchell and he turned and walked upstairs.

“Mitchell, no,” said Annie, scrambling after him.

Mitchell found Herrick sitting calmly beside the bed. Something about the stillness of him made Mitchell very afraid. Herrick had always had a great capacity for patience and cunning. Seeing this quiet figure was less satisfying than the shrinking coward of before.

“It’s you again,” said Herrick. “Are you here to hurt me?”

“Yeah,” said Mitchell, flashing his eyes black.

Herrick flinched and shrunk away, but didn’t say anything.

Mitchell grabbed his knife from his pocket, forcing Herrick down onto the bed, and slashed his own wrist. Blood gushed out and he held it over Herrick’s mouth, holding the man’s body down with his own, and making sure his mouth stayed open with the non-bleeding hand. Herrick wriggled under him, trying to spit up the blood, but Mitchell didn’t give him an option. 

“Mitchell, stop it!” cried Annie, pulling on his arm. 

Daisy pulled her off his arm, slinging a comfortable arm around her shoulders.

“Easy, baby girl, this could work. Cara could never bear to hold him down for long.”

“Mitchell, this is wrong,” said Annie.

“He’s gotta remember, Annie,” Mitchell gritted out.

“Mitchell, stop!” came a new voice. 

Everyone looked up to see George and Nina standing in the doorway.

Mitchell closed his eyes and didn’t move.

“George, you don’t understand.”

George moved forward, shoving Cara out of the way, and pulled Mitchell roughly. Mitchell let himself be pulled, and put one hand on his arm to stop the bleeding.

Herrick crawled up the bed until his back was against the wall and shuddered. Mitchell could see the desire in his eyes though. Herrick’s eyes were black and his tongue kept whipping out to lick the blood covering his mouth.

“Nina, help me,” Herrick whimpered.

Nina didn’t move, but her face looked pitying.

“George, you have to let me do this,” Mitchell said.

George shook his head and grabbed an old cane off the floor, leaning against the playhouse.

Mitchell felt his body freeze as George transformed into someone calm and purposeful, holding the cane against Mitchell’s chest. 

Mitchell slowly backed away and George followed him, out towards the door.

The smell of blood filled the air and Mitchell struggled to keep himself from extending his teeth. Almost every other thought flew out of his head.

"What are you doing, George? Are you really gonna do it?” George didn’t say anything, just motioned for everyone else to stand back and not follow them. Mitchell was afraid, because this wasn’t the George he knew. “I don't think you have it in you,” Mitchell said, angry. He looked at George’s body. “Your hand is shaking, it's shaking so hard. Who do you think you are, pointing a stick at me?"

Mitchell was down the stairs now and George herded him into his own room.

Mitchell made to move past him again and George elbowed him in the face.

“Shut up,” said George.

“That man knows how to save me, George,” said Mitchell.

“And this is the way to save your life, is it?” asked George. “By forcing him to become a killer again?”

“I was feeding him my own blood, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Look where that got you,” George said coldly.

“You killed him before, why are you getting squeamish?”

"I never wanted to be a killer of anything or anybody but I did it," said George.

"I know. I know and you did it for me," Mitchell said, some sort of rationality coming back.

George nodded and finally dropped the cane, closing the door behind him.

"I did it for us and I'm doing this for us. Herrick is a vampire. You can’t bring him back."

"I'm not doing this on a whim,” said Mitchell, pleading. “It's costing me. You have no idea what it's costing me."

"If it's costing you so much then don't do it," George said, pleading in his own turn.

"I have to. I'm not asking you to be a part of it," Mitchell said.

"You are. You're asking me to look away. I've always looked away with you. But that has to end now because I have to stop you because you can't stop yourself."

"It's just one more time."

George huffed and hung his head.

"You're like a drug addict. One more hit and I'll be done. No. No. It's now."

"You're asking me to give up everything," said Mitchell, sitting on the bed, putting his head in his hands.

George cleared his throat and spoke softly.

"I'm going to be a father now. I have to teach my child the right way to live. I have to teach my son or daughter about humanity and that everyone's worthy of redemption no matter what they've done, that someone can be forgiven their sins no matter how unforgiveable. That is the ultimate test.” George paused and then spoke again, his voice shaking. “But I also have to teach them when to stop forgiving, when to protect themselves, when to let go of something when it's harmful to them."

"What does that even mean?" Mitchell asked, looking up. 

George’s eyes were wet, but he wasn’t crying.

"You're the best friend I've ever had, ever will have. But I will turn my back on you. I will wipe you from my memory and I will never mention your name again. I will never tell my son or daughter that I had a friend called Mitchell. It will be as if we'd never met. That's it. Now you make your choice."

“Why are you doing this to me, George?” Mitchell said, feeling his own tears in his eyes. "I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm so tired and I'm losing everything."

“You don’t have to,” said George. “I don’t want you to. But now’s the time. I have to think about Nina and the baby, first and foremost. Never again can I look away. You think about that.”

George walked out and closed the door behind him. Mitchell slid down to the floor and tried not to curl into a ball.

He might be top of the food chain on this planet, but he felt lower than low, arm bleeding all over his bed, his life and future in shambles.

“Is this what you wanted, Lia?” he spoke to the air. “You didn’t even give me everything; you’re just taking it away.”

“They may have set this up,” said Annie’s voice, suddenly in front of him. “But you’re the one making it happen.”

“Annie, not now,” he said.

He didn’t want her to see him like this.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” she said. She knelt down in front of him, putting her hands on his face. “This isn’t the way, don’t you see that? Let us help you.”

“You don’t know how,” he said.

“You’re forgetting I have a personal in with the other side.”

“Annie, I don’t want you anywhere near them,” he said.

“Well, dad, that’s not your decision,” she said, dropping her hands.

“George says he’ll never mention my name again,” said Mitchell, not wanting to argue the point with her, it would only make her more stubborn.

“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” said Annie. “What you choose for yourself.”

“I’m gonna die,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “Herrick’s my only hope.”

“With that attitude you will,” she said. “Stop wallowing and make a stand.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said.

“You’re unbelievable,” she said hotly, standing. “Even when you’re at your lowest of lows you’re so arrogant you can’t imagine anyone else has the answers. Fine, stay here and get dragged to hell, I know just the place for you.”

He looked up and she was gone. He indulged himself in weeping. Nothing about this was fair, but then again, it’s not like he’d ever been fair to others.

What was it to be? Was he going to lose everything that had ever made him happy earlier or later? Could he lose it on his own terms?

Yes, yes he would.

Mitchell stood up and went into the washroom and cleaned and bound his arm and changed his clothes. When he looked less like the victim of a vampire attack he went back downstairs.

Everyone sans Herrick was in the living room.

“I choose you, George,” Mitchell said quietly when he came in the room.

George let out a sigh and simply nodded.

“Nina, do you want to say anything?” he asked.

“I can’t stay here with any other vampires,” Nina said. “So, Mitchell, both George and I leave, or Cara, Daisy, and Herrick do.”

Every inch of Mitchell protested against that. If he let them leave now, his only hope of salvation went out the door with them. Of course, he’d made his decision sitting on his bedroom floor. Resentment against Nina flared inside him and he tried to push it down again.

“If they go, they’ll kill,” he said.

“We’ll kill anyway, Mitchell honey,” said Daisy. “Come with us. You were making progress, I saw him wanting your blood like he never wanted Cara’s or mine.”

“Make my Herrick whole again,” Cara said. “He’ll forgive you. We’ll rule the world together, the four of us.”

Mitchell shook his head. He couldn’t deny a part of him wanted to go.

“I’m not doing that anymore,” he said. “When you go, you go alone.”

George and Annie looked at him with relief and Nina with something like pity.

“Your loss,” said Daisy, then left the room singing something that sounded like, “Mitchell’s gonna die, Mitchell’s gonna die,” under her breath.

Mitchell watched them herd Herrick out the door, Herrick who looked at Mitchell and he could have sworn Herrick smiled. Then Herrick looked at Nina and positively grinned.

“Goodbye, Nina,” he said.

Nina smiled at him and Mitchell felt a chill pass over his spine.

They were left, the four of them, standing in the doorway.


	10. Chapter 10

Nina looked through the hospital loo, making sure that she and Annie were alone.

“We’re all clear,” she said, then pulled the photo from her pocket. Annie held out her hands eagerly. "My mate in imaging, she owed me a favor so she brought me in. I've still got some of that jelly stuff on.” Annie let out an ecstatic squeal and Nina laughed. "You're holding it upside down."

"That's so sweet. It's still there," said Annie, correcting her mistake.

"Still there.” Nina rubbed her temple, it seemed like she had a constant headache these days. “I thought I'd lost it."

"But you didn't!” said Annie. “Nina, you didn't, it's all right. It's okay. It can survive a transformation, it- I hate calling it it - the baby. The baby can survive. Oh, we're gonna have to have a treat tonight. Big tea, major pudding, and just happy times.”

“Annie, that may not be the best idea. George and I aren’t exactly together anymore. Mitchell’s still…moping about Herrick.”

“It’s just what we need. Like a…team building exercise!”

“You can’t fix everything with tea.”

“I can try,” said Annie. “Nina, are you going to be okay, you and George? What he did was…awful. But, at least, with George, he’s truly contrite. He’s not going to make a habit of it like Owen.”

“I get why he did it,” said Nina. “It’s not that. Annie, don’t you remember how inadequate you felt when you found out? How somehow it felt like your fault, even when you were the angriest you’d ever been? How it was like something had been torn from your insides?”

Annie was quiet for a moment.

“Oh that,” she said finally, smiling a little. “I definitely remember that.”

“It’s going to take time more than anything,” said Nina. “I’ve got his child growing inside of me. His werewolf child. Child of a bloody prophecy.”

“Right,” said Annie. Nina had told her about Mitchell’s words a few days before. “Okay, time is fine. But there’s no reason we can’t celebrate the baby being alive.”

“You are unbelievable,” said Nina.

“Even if it’s just a girl’s night, we should,” said Annie, getting excited again. “This is a big deal.”

“Right,” said Nina.

Annie sighed and looked down.

“Nina, when…when I came back and Mitchell told me what-what he did, it was all those things you just said. It was so hard to forgive him. It was like giving myself up. But I found myself on the other side of that feeling because he’s…a part of me. I don’t want to live without him, even if that means there’s a possibility he might hurt me.”

“Annie, no,” said Nina, her worst fears realized. “You said you weren’t going to go there so don’t go there.”

Annie shrugged.

“I’m there. There’s no way I can deny it now. I’m trying not to do anything about it. If it’s going to happen, it can happen later.”

“Annie, there’s so much darkness in him,” said Nina.

Annie’s face quieted.

“There’s so much darkness in all of us, Nina. I-I’ve killed a man. You’re the only one of us who hasn’t.”

Nina didn’t know what to say to that. It was true. They didn’t bring it up, didn’t talk about it, but Annie had been very different that night when she took Kemp. She’d been glowing, transparent, a purple fire in her eyes. Beautiful in a haunting, terrifying way.

“Just be careful, okay?” said Nina. “I don’t want to him to hurt you and it’s not like…well, he may not be around for much longer.”

“Just don’t plan on killing him, okay?” asked Annie, lightly enough, but there was an underlying seriousness in her tone.

Nina pursed her lips.

“Annie, I don’t plan on killing Mitchell, even though sometimes I’d like nothing better. But…I can’t control myself as the wolf and so…it’s possible it might be me.”

“We all know that,” said Annie, seemingly trying to smile. “Besides, I’ve got that in hand.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Nina.

“Whatever needs to be done,” said Annie. “But first I’ve got to get back and start cooking. It’s going to be very good. All the things I said before. Oh, and Jenga! See you back at the house."

Annie rent-a-ghosted away and Nina was left rolling her eyes.

"Pissing Jenga."

Of course, she had much bigger problems to face other than the fact that she hated Jenga. 

She looked down at the ultrasound picture. The baby looked normal enough, if slightly huge. She’d had to fudge her conception date with the people in imaging. She appeared to be much further along than was normal. Of course, Nina had, after a tense conversation with Mitchell, looked up the normal gestation period for wolves and discovered that they got a whopping sixty-three days on average.

If she were truly on wolf time she’d be in labor right now so she figured she’d have at least three more months - a compromise with the wolf as it were. But nothing was certain.

Beyond that was the fact that George was now sleeping in another bedroom. Nina had asked him to, but it was…ridiculously lonely without him. So far she’d only come to the conclusion that she wanted him to be a father for her child. Whether that meant being with her as well, she hadn’t yet decided.

She’d need all the help she could get figuring out what was going to happen with this child. Mitchell had promised to reach out and see what he could figure out, but that scared Nina. Who else was he going to reach out to but vampires? She didn’t want a single one of them knowing about her pregnancy and Mitchell’s involvement with werewolves was too well known for people not to guess where his inquiries were really coming from.

They had to proceed very cautiously, which was driving George crazy. Then there was Mitchell who already spent every last second freaking out over his impending doom. Only when Annie was around did he deign to calm down. Perhaps there was something to that relationship after all for all that Nina hoped there wasn’t. It just meant that everything was up in the air and Nina hated that feeling.

“But you’re safe for now,” she whispered, touching her stomach, clutching the photo.

***

Mitchell slipped out of the house. Only George was home, sitting around moping about Nina, but Mitchell was still cautious. The last few days had been like living in a time bomb. It was just a tossup as to who would crack first. All of them were affected by everything that was going on. Mitchell didn’t want to do anything to break the fragile truce. But…he couldn’t help himself. He had to find out what Herrick knew.

Daisy had kindly slipped him their forwarding address and Mitchell was using Nina’s shift at the hospital as a convenient time to visit. Technically nothing had been said about Mitchell not talking to them, but he was well aware that it was implied in Nina’s ultimatum that none of them associate with anyone from their past.

Considering how deadly serious George had been about giving Mitchell up, Mitchell knew that anything he did now was potential grounds for him being thrown out of their lives. The idea was excruciatingly painful, but so was the idea of losing his life and not being with them anymore anyway.

Besides, there was the baby to consider. Mitchell knew the secrets to the werewolf progeny prophecy were locked somewhere in Herrick’s head, along with the formula of immortality. There weren’t too many other avenues for Mitchell to pursue in helping them find answers. He wasn’t exactly on good terms with a lot of the Old Ones. Even though Carl wasn’t technically an Old One, he might know, so Mitchell had sent out feelers to see if he could get in touch with him.

Other than that, there was no one Mitchell would trust to give him the answers and protect George and Nina and the baby. Daisy might have been told things by Ivan, but she was hardly likely to give up the information willingly, and he doubted she would have been interested in any case. That left amnesiac Herrick. Mitchell was doing it for them, he really was. If he got to live because of it, well, that was just a bonus. At least that’s what he told himself.

He knocked on the door and Daisy opened it.

“Well, now, this is a surprise,” she said. “I thought we were on our own?”

“Daisy, quit messing around,” Mitchell said, in no mood for her games. “Do you want my help or not?”

“I think you’re getting the better end of the deal,” she said and gestured grandly behind her. “Welcome to our humble home.” Mitchell brushed past her and found Cara hovering over a disgusted-looking Herrick. “Cara, baby, let’s go into the kitchen. There’re some leftovers.”

Mitchell shot a sharp glance at Daisy who stared defiantly at him. Mitchell sighed, there wasn’t much he could do to stop them feeding without killing them all. Yes, he was prepared to do so to stop major events like Graham copycatting the Box Tunnel massacre, but he didn’t feel like he had any sort of right to stop the entire world of vampires from feeding. That didn’t keep him from feeling guilty. If they were under his roof he’d have some measure of control over what they did. He thought he might anyway. Then again, was he just justifying his desire to have full access to Herrick whenever he wanted?

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He was so tired of making moral judgments. Every day, every second, was a constant effort to keep his own blood lust under control. He didn’t have time to police anybody else. That’s what had led him to disaster after Herrick died.

Cara went with Daisy reluctantly and Mitchell pulled up a chair in front of Herrick, deliberately laying a stake on his knee.

Herrick stared at him calmly.

“How’s Nina?” he asked.

Mitchell ignored him.

"Okay, if this amnesia thing was a bluff, even you'd be cracking now. So let’s start at the beginning. William Herrick, born 1843. Made vampire in 1890. You survived a werewolf attack. You survived it and you found a way back. Which means you've got something that I want. And if I have to dig the secret out of your skull with my nails I'll do it. I'm gonna make you tell me everything.”

“I think you may be crazy,” said Herrick.

Mitchell laughed grimly.

“John Mitchell, vampire. Made vampire by the aforementioned William Herrick. I know you better than anyone alive. So let’s just take it for granted I know what I’m talking about, okay?”

“If we know each other so well,” said Herrick, “why did you try to kill me?”

“Because you’re not a good person, Herrick,” said Mitchell. “You’ve slaughtered thousands of people without a thought and you tried to make me the same as you.”

“So, you’re saying you haven’t slaughtered thousands of people?” asked Herrick innocently.

Mitchell’s lips twisted upwards.

“I’m no innocent,” he said bitterly. “Partly that’s my own arrogance, but a hell of a lot of it is down to you, so don’t expect any mercy from me.”

“If I survived an attack as you say,” said Herrick, “how did I survive it? Where are my scars?”

“That’s what I want to know,” said Mitchell. “Now, you and I have talked before about things like this. Supposedly you were gonna make me your heir. But I never did get my inheritance. You were too busy using me as your puppet, strung out on blood, barely knowing the difference between right and wrong. I left you, by the grace of one human, and now…now she’s dead. Because of you. So we’re gonna work with you until I figure out why you’re alive.”

“That’s a rather ambitious task,” said Herrick. “But we’ve a lovely day for it.”

“Have you had any blood since the last time we met?” Mitchell asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Herrick, but his face twitched. “Those…women held me down.”

Mitchell kept on, he kept asking him questions, reminding Herrick of things they’d done, telling him his life. Some of it made Mitchell sick to remember but he kept on. It was sobering in a way to be reminded of how much of their lives had been spent together. Also, it reminded him of just how much Mitchell owed to the man before him. The charisma that Herrick had was greatly toned down now, but Mitchell could still feel it pulling at him. There were moments when Mitchell wanted Herrick to remember him, to remember their relationship, to feel that kinship between them. To truly make Mitchell his heir. That would be easier, much easier than what Mitchell was trying to do.

It was exhausting. Herrick was slippery and cordial, seemingly intrigued and disgusted by Mitchell’s stories. Every once in a while he would show some sign of recognition, but nothing that gave Mitchell any hope. This was going to be a long and arduous process and somehow Mitchell had the idea that only killing and draining someone would actually bring Herrick back. Mitchell couldn’t do that.

In the end he left Herrick (who was shackled to the wall; apparently he’d tried to run from his precious Cara a few times) and joined Daisy and Cara in the kitchen. Cara immediately left to see how Herrick was and Mitchell slumped against the counter.

“Hard day’s work, soldier?” asked Daisy mockingly.

Mitchell didn’t answer for a minute. His brain was still trying to catch up to everything he’d observed in the last few hours.

“What’s it to you, anyway?” he finally asked. “What’s in this for you, Daisy? You don’t care about Herrick or Cara.”

“Maybe I care about you,” said Daisy suggestively.

“Maybe,” he said. “But not enough. We’ve been… friends a long time, Daisy, don’t forget I know you. I know what Ivan meant to you, so tell me why you’re not out there wreaking havoc on the world.”

“Maybe I’m tired,” she snapped. “Havoc’s not quite as much fun without someone to share it with, you know,” she said, her tone easing.

“I’m sorry you lost him,” he said. “I know it’s my fault.”

“I don’t blame you for that, Mitchell,” said Daisy. “I blame you for leaving me when I needed you. For forgiving humanity when they took him from us.”

She hopped up on the counter and glared at him, Mitchell closed his eyes. 

“Don’t you think that sometimes humanity lumps us all together?” he asked. “Should they kill all of us because one of us killed one of them?”

“As exciting as the idea of slaughtering the entire world is,” said Daisy, “it’s a bit passé. There’s the whole ‘needing to feed’ problem. But humanity wouldn’t bother to think about that. They don’t think they need us for anything.”

“So are you saying we’re better than them or worse?” he asked.

“You chose humanity, Mitchell,” said Daisy, smiling sadly. “You tell me.”

“This is a pointless debate,” he said, because sometimes he wasn’t sure himself.

“Were we debating?” she asked.

“I just want to know why you’re here,” he said. “Stop playacting.”

“If I stopped,” Daisy said coldly, “it would put all your little humans at risk. There are plenty of trains, Mitchell, and I enjoyed myself quite a lot. Be very glad that I’m flippant, because if I wasn’t I’d make sure the whole world felt my pain.”

Mitchell thought about that for a second and then reached over and tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t get too sentimental,” she said. “That’s just boring.”

“Ivan told me-” Mitchell said, and then stopped. “I was going to leave the funeral parlor. For Lucy.” Even now his heart gave a painful squeeze when he thought about her and what they’d put each other through. “Ivan said he’d take over. Do you know why?”

“He never got a chance to tell me,” Daisy said shortly, but her tone was curious.

“He said I should have told him it was about love. ‘Everyone deserves a Daisy,’ he said.”

Daisy bowed her head and when she lifted it again, her eyes were moist.

“I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you,” she said.

“How about neither,” he said.

She laughed.

“I presume we shall see you again?”

“He’s in there somewhere,” Mitchell said, nodding. “I’m going to get it out of him.”

“It would be a rather sorry world without John Mitchell,” she said thoughtfully. “Messing everyone’s lives up.”

Mitchell turned and left.

Cara was waiting for him by the front door.

“He’s all tired,” she said. “Don’t you hurt him!”

“Cara, get a life,” said Mitchell. “Don’t you have an original thought of your own?”

“I’m his,” Cara said simply.

“But not always,” said Mitchell suddenly, a thought occurring to him. “Tell me, Cara, back when I smashed your teeth, why those girls in the shopping center?”

Cara put her hand to her mouth as if remembering the pain.

“What’d you mean?” she asked.

“Those girls you killed, there were three of them there, but you only killed two. The commissioner told me later they were convicted felons, so why them and not the other one?”

“They were tasty,” said Cara, her face settling into a dream-like state. “They were nasty too, picking on that other girl. I gave them what they deserved.”

“You didn’t kill her though,” Mitchell prompted.

“You said to straighten up,” said Cara. “Those two deserved to die. You wouldn’t want her dead. That was right.”

She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world but Mitchell stared at her for a few moments. The idea that Cara had any kind of a conscience, some idea of trying to follow the rules, was revolutionary. She had been vacant and simple in life and now in death she was still a follower, but she had the power to choose who she followed.

He couldn’t deal with such an idea; it would give him second thoughts. All he really wanted to do was go home and sleep and forget that once again he had people’s lives resting on his shoulders.

“Just be good, Cara,” he said. “Don’t go killing. You don’t want to bring any attention to your precious Herrick, do you?”

“Daisy gets what I need,” said Cara. “But don’t you worry about him. I’m gonna make him better.”

Mitchell just left and cautiously made his way back home, stopping at the local library first.

They had some of the texts he wanted, but it was far more likely a local bookshop would be better. Besides, he was trying to keep a low profile. Not just for Nina and George’s sake - it would be far better if no one knew the John Mitchell formerly of Bristol was now in Barry. Investigations on the Box Tunnel massacre hadn’t been going very well and the public was starting to get angry in its demand for justice.

Mitchell had heard rumors even before Graham came to town that the Old Ones were going to get involved, so he was going to avoid them if he possibly could. Something like this wouldn’t be below their notice. He doubted they’d come after him, but they wouldn’t be happy if they found him, so he definitely wanted to stay hidden if at all possible.

Armed with a few books he slipped back into the house and up to his room. Annie had left a note on his door along with a pile of laundry she’d neatly folded.

He studied the little hearts on her note and leaned his head against the door for a moment. This would be so much easier if she wasn’t the most amazing woman he’d ever come in contact with. Why did she have to be exactly what he wanted? Delicious smells wafted up to him from the kitchen and he went inside and shut his door, prepared to read, even if it bored him to death.

***

George lay on his new bed, staring at the ceiling. Yes, he had quite a tendency to wallow when bad things happened, he knew that. It was just a lot easier to stay in bed and lament his life than it was to get up and do anything about it. He was trying to give Nina her space, he really was. She’d accepted his explanation and she was safe, those were the only two things he really wanted. If she asked him to sleep somewhere else, well, that was her prerogative. 

He hated sleeping alone. He was too used to her warmth, the way she looked, her hair spread out on the pillow. He’d watched her sleeping sometimes and reflected with pride how she was his, how she’d chosen him. Well, he couldn’t do that any longer and it was hard. He only wished he’d taken the time to appreciate her while she had been his. Now, she just treated him with a quiet civility. Barely better than Mitchell, George thought grumpily.

Things were quieter now. There had been such a flurry of activity with Sasha, Graham, and then Herrick, George had forgotten what things were like when it was quiet. But there was something this quiet was lacking, a rush of adrenaline that made George sit up and take action. Through the quiet he went to his shifts at the hospital, came to the table when Annie dragged him there, and went through a daily awkward encounter with Nina where he asked her how she was and she replied and they parted ways. He almost wished something would happen so he could feel like he was needed in some way, so that he could run after her, so that he could stop Mitchell from being foolish. Just something other than this loneliness.

He knew that was a stupid thing to wish and that this was the time when everything could grow and change and become better, but he was still stuck in his grieving stage.

After a week, he stopped feeling quite as sorry for himself and began to realize that if he wanted any chance at getting Nina back fully he would have to stop acting like a moody teenager. It had started when Annie came back from the hospital, raving about the ultrasound picture Nina had taken and how they had to celebrate the baby surviving the transformation. That definitely peaked George’s interest and it had melted his heart, seeing the picture for the first time.

That night had been almost good. First, all the good things Annie had made for supper and then the way Nina had looked almost happy to see him. Mitchell had been peaked looking and worn out, but Annie had been blushing like a schoolgirl every time she looked at Mitchell. Really, everything was almost normal.

Because of that when George heard Mitchell return from wherever he went almost every afternoon; he got out of bed and knocked on his door.

“Come in,” called Mitchell.

George entered the room to find Mitchell’s bed covered in books.

“I didn’t think you were such an avid reader,” said George.

“Take a shower, mate, you stink,” said Mitchell.

“You should be subjected to your smell on a daily basis, and then you might change your mind,” replied George primly.

“Never mind,” said Mitchell. “What can I do you for?”

“Nothing,” said George, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just wondering where you’ve been and why.”

Mitchell stared at him for a moment and then ducked his head.

“Uh, just out. You know. Getting some books.”

“Yeah,” said George, trying not to be too suspicious of the way Mitchell avoided looking him in the face. “I can see that.”

“It’s for you, you know,” said Mitchell. “Trying to get some info about little baby George.”

“Do you think it will be a boy?” asked George, sinking down on the bed, moving some books aside.

“You sound like Annie again, are you sure you two didn’t switch bodies or something?” asked Mitchell.

“Mitchell!” said George. “Can’t I have a conversation about my impending child without allegations of bodysnatching?”

“Cause I’ve done that so often,” said Mitchell, leaning back. “No, I don’t know. I can sense the life inside Nina, but I’m not a bloody sonogram.”

“Have you found anything interesting?” asked George, peering at some of the book titles.

“Pretty much being bored to death,” said Mitchell. “Looks like it will be werewolf books that kill me and not an actual werewolf.”

“Mitchell,” began George.

“I’m just joking,” said Mitchell, sighing and closing his eyes. “Let me cope in my own way.”

“I don’t want you to go,” said George simply.

“Well, none of us are going to get what we want, looks like,” said Mitchell.

George didn’t want to think about that so he changed the subject.

“What does Annie want?” asked George slyly

Mitchell looked sharply at him, and then buried his head in his hands.

"Uh, I think Annie might fancy me."

George allowed himself a grin.

"Finally."

"You knew?" exclaimed Mitchell in a wounded tone, looking up.

"Oh, Mitchell, Annie is many things, but subtle she is not. You rescued her from hell. That kind of thing tends to turn a girl's head."

"How long have you known?" asked Mitchell.

"I don't know…a couple of weeks.” George nudged him. “For future reference nobody says fancy anymore."

Mitchell got up and started pacing. George almost wanted to laugh, Mitchell appeared very agitated and it was funny to see him losing his calm when he usually tried to play everything so cool.

"You didn't think to tell me you knew."

"Nope, because I'm not twelve," said George, rolling his eyes.

"What did she say about me?"

"Nothing," said George.

"Okay, so she hasn't actually told you," said Mitchell, stopping his pacing.

"Okay, we are twelve. No, she hasn't told me she _fancies_ you,” George answered. “She doesn't need to. Her body language is deafening."

"What a mess," groaned Mitchell.

"But who knows. You two, you two could be good for each other."

"She could be…good for me. But-"

George wasn’t going to let Mitchell finish that sentence. He didn’t know why he was so happy about the idea of Annie and Mitchell becoming a couple but he had the striking feeling it had a lot to do with his own failing relationship. 

Besides, there was definitely something to it, something rather poetic about a ghost and a vampire, both immortal in their death. Beyond that, Annie would help Mitchell keep to the right path when George was gone and Mitchell was a great steadying influence on Annie.

"And you'll be good to her," George said firmly.

"Of course. I'd never…"

Mitchell trailed off and George paused to consider the situation more practically. There were a lot of variables involved and looking beyond his desire for his friends to be happy, he could see that if it were to happen, it would be a huge change for both of them and a huge commitment.

"Mitchell, if you're thinking about doing this, don't go into it lightly. This is no little thing. This is Annie we're talking about."

"George, you gotta know I would never intentionally hurt her."

"Yeah, I know,” said George. He leaned forward, not wanting to get lost in the seriousness of the moment. Besides, opportunities to make Mitchell uncomfortable were few and far in between. He started giggling. “Sorry, I was just…so, uh, are you gonna ask her out?" Mitchell glared at him. "This could be so cool."

"I don't know. I mean, how would it even work? With a ghost?"

"What do you mean?"

Mitchell’s face contorted through several strange expressions and he made some interesting gestures before he spoke again.

"Sex," Mitchell spit out.

George raised his eyebrows because he hadn’t even been thinking about that and didn’t necessarily want to.

“That, my friend, is your problem,” he said. “I don’t want anything to do with it and if anyone asks, I’ll deny we had this conversation.”

“Great pal, you are,” said Mitchell.

“Glad we had this little chat. Or perhaps didn’t,” said George, getting up and feeling much better. “But, it will be fine, just talk to her.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Mitchell moodily.

After he left Mitchell George made his way down to the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge for leftovers. He’d eat and then clean himself up a bit. It was time to move forward again.

He’d made himself a sandwich when Nina entered the room and froze when she saw him.

He paused, his mouth wrapped around sandwich mid-bite. Chewing hastily he swallowed and cleared his throat.

“Uh, I can…go.”

Nina sighed and sat down at the table.

“No, uh, no, you don’t have to go. We should…talk.”

George’s heart started hammering inside his chest. Was this going to be the kind of talk that finally cleared the air between them or was this the talk that ended with Nina gone from George’s life forever?

He sat down with his sandwich.

“Do you want anything?” 

“No, thanks,” she said. “Still a bit queasy sometimes.”

“Is that normal, do you think?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“I don’t think any of us are going to know what’s normal. Clearly, I’m growing at a substantial rate and all bets are off as to how long this will take.”

“Uh, have you thought…about what, what you’d like to do about work?” he asked, carefully studying his sandwich.

“I think I need to quit,” said Nina. “I can’t keep showing up like this and pretending this is a normal pregnancy. Something’s going to give it away. They are doctors there, after all.”

“But don’t you need a doctor for the, the, uh, the birth?” asked George.

“I just don’t think we can risk it,” said Nina. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m a nurse; we’ll study up on wolf births just in case there’s some weird twist from that. You’ll…be there.”

“I-I-I will?” asked George, finally daring to raise his head.

Nina closed her eyes and then opened them, staring determinedly at George’s chin.

“Yes. I don’t know what the future holds,” she said like she’d been practicing. “I am still so angry with you and I don’t feel like I can trust you with…my heart. But, I know you’ll be a good father. I know you’ll love this child. I know you’ll do anything to protect us, so I want you to be…involved, in our child’s life. To be the father. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

“Nina,” George breathed out, afraid he might start sobbing, “thank you.”

“I don’t think any other solution is possible, really,” she said.

“But it means the world to me,” he said earnestly.

“It doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she said, wiping a tear from her eyes. “You’ve…you’ve cleaved me in two with what you’ve done, George. You promised to be there for me. Having this baby scares me more than anything I’ve ever done in my life. You promised to help me and now…now you did this. How could you do this to me?” He didn’t have an answer for her. Nina took a deep breath and spoke again. “I can’t do this alone so…in some ways we’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, ignoring how hurt her words made him feel. He deserved them, after all. “Nina, whatever you need, okay?”

“Sure,” she said. “Let’s just get through this pregnancy. We can see where things are then.”

“I can do that,” he said, hoping he could without completely falling apart or begging her to take him back at least once a day.

“Um, you might want to see about taking some more shifts if you can?” she said. “I, uh, know money will be tight.”

“We can’t make Mitchell get a job?” he asked hopefully.

“He says,” Nina said carefully, “and I agree with him, that it would be best if he wasn’t in the public eye right now. There’s too much investigation into the Box Tunnel massacre. We can’t afford to have people poking around.”

“Are you okay with that?” he asked, studying her closely. “I mean, he’s guilty.”

“I’d just as soon turn him in,” she said briskly. “Daisy too. But there would be too many questions, too much attention brought to all of us. I can’t risk that for the baby. And…we need his help.”

“But can you do that?” he persisted. “Can you live with that?”

“I’m the one who usually asks those questions,” she said, then sighed. “The answer is I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like we’re all stuck in quicksand, just getting more and more bogged down. There was always something to make me agree with what he said. Something inside me agreed with what happened, mostly because I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t have that excuse anymore, but then I became responsible for another life. I’d do anything to keep this baby safe, George, anything. Even live with a vampire and his past.”

George ducked his head at the ferocity in her tone, thinking.

“Say Mitchell weren’t a vampire,” he said slowly. “Or, say he was and had just never killed anyone. What would you think about him?”

“He’d still be a prick,” said Nina quickly, but with an edge of teasing in her tone. George looked at her. She shook her head. “I don’t have the energy for what if games. All I’ll say is that…well, I think Mitchell and I would get on pretty well if we weren’t in the situation we’re in. We each understand how the other thinks.”

George couldn’t deny he felt a thrill at that. It had always torn at him, the friction between two of the people he loved most.

“Okay,” he said, not wanting to push. “Um, so, I know we’re not okay, but we’re semi-on-the-way-to-okay, maybe?”

“Very semi,” she said. “You don’t have to duck out of the room every time I come in. We do live together, after all.”

“I hope you know you can still…talk to me,” he said.

“I know,” she said.

He noted she didn’t say she would, but he’d take what he could get.

“If I’m going to be impressive at the job I should probably shower,” he said, standing up.

“I’d highly recommend a shave as well,” she said dryly.

George laughed and got up. Now that he was to be the main breadwinner of this odd family, well, he’d better look the part.


	11. Chapter 11

Annie really wished she had some way of contacting Sykes, but she didn’t even though she had tried. She had no idea where he was or how to get involved in what she assumed was some sort of ghost community. Apparently all the ghosts in Bristol had known each other somewhat, but Annie hadn’t encountered any other ghosts here in Barry.

Instead of getting any help from the fellow dearly departed Annie had to rely on her own abilities. A dangerous thing at the best of times, she thought grimly, but she had no other alternative. Her plan to hold the other side hostage was laughable, but there was something about the whole situation that didn’t make sense and she had to get to the bottom of it. If the other side wanted her so badly, she’d give them herself, but she wasn’t going to go into it unprepared. She would give them a prize that they couldn’t handle.

Perhaps it wasn’t wise, and she certainly shouldn’t be attempting something like this on her own, but she was almost driven to it by something inside her she couldn’t fathom. Every time she thought about how the other side was manipulating Mitchell into death and attempting to get her on their side, she felt that rage again and whatever thoughts she might have had about trying to get anyone else’s help were forgotten.

So she practiced, for lack of a better word. She took all the techniques Sykes had shown her and kept on working with them. After blowing things up in the house a few more times she had taken to frequenting an abandoned building in a less frequented area of Barry. It was easy to sneak out of the house at night; the others didn’t expect her to keep to their schedule after all. She had all the time in the world without needing to sleep. Perhaps she was adding to local legends about haunted houses, but she didn’t care.

She found that the more she concentrated the more she was able to see through the solidity of the world around her. The walls of any building were no more than a covering, sheltering a vast world inside them, ready to be manipulated by someone with the ability and desire. Rubber casing on electrical wires was no barrier at all and she could see inside them, see the very fibers they were made of. She wouldn’t say she’d suddenly developed x-ray vision or anything like that, but she was not bound by the physics of the world. She just had to look past her human mentality to see that.

Objects flew to her bidding; the movements becoming smoother as she practiced. The electricity of the building obeyed her every whim. She could rent-a-ghost with complete accuracy over incredibly long distances. She had, in fact, jumped back to Bristol several times now. Tonight she was there again, not just to visit the little pink house that held her best and worst memories, but because she was on a mission.

She’d been practicing for three weeks now and even though she almost didn’t know what she was practicing for, she knew she couldn’t do any more on her own. What she needed to be able to do was not just manipulate the physical world around her, but to be able to fight against those who could do the same.

Sykes had shown her a few spots he liked to frequent every now and then, but she knew he was a wandering spirit, unlikely to stay in one place for long. She kept trying because even if he wasn’t around, perhaps there were other ghosts who could help her. That mother had found her through Sykes, Annie didn’t see why the opposite couldn’t be true. The problem with ghosts was they were always crossing over. She hadn’t had any luck on her previous visits, (even the old movie house was abandoned now that Alan had gone on tour) but she kept looking.

She nosed around for a while without success so she prepared to jump back to Barry.

“Annie?” asked a voice behind her.

Annie jumped and held her hand to her heart.

“Sykes, you scared the life out of me. Well, you know what I mean. Um, hi.”

“Hi,” said Sykes. 

He looked exactly the same and Annie was inordinately pleased to see him.

“You’re still here,” she said stupidly, even though she’d been looking for him.

“I’m still here,” he said. “What are you doing? The last I heard you’d been sucked to the other side.”

“Long story. The short version is I’m looking for you,” she said. “Um, I need your help.”

“Again?” he asked, but his tone was gentle.

Annie laughed and crossed closer to him.

“Yeah, so, well, I’m training…doing all the things you taught me. I’ve gotta, sorta, cross over and kick some transparent ass, if you get my drift.”

“Literally not at all,” he said.

Annie laughed, a bit nervously this time, and tried her best to explain the situation to him.

“Annie, that’s not possible,” he said, when she was done.

“How do you know?” she asked. “It’s not like you’ve ever visited.”

“No,” he said, “but every ghost I’ve ever known who tried has failed.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her heart sinking.

Sykes sighed and leaned against a rubbish bin.

“Annie, the other side is very powerful. They like order and they like their little foot soldiers to comply with that order. Ghosts in and of themselves are outside of that order and they don’t like it. That’s why if you don’t resolve your unfinished business, they resolve it for you.”

“But they sent me back,” said Annie.

“And that’s what worries me,” said Sykes. “They shouldn’t have, no matter what was going on with your vampire friend.”

“Lia said that they needed me to choose to come back, to come through my own door,” said Annie.

“And what exactly are you choosing to do now?” asked Sykes grimly.

“Oh,” said Annie, her thoughts racing. “Are you saying…Mitchell’s prophecy is all a trap for me?”

“Possibly,” said Sykes. “All I know is that any ghost I’ve ever met who crossed over and intended to come back, for whatever reason, never did.”

“So, do you think…if I just never go back, that Mitchell will be safe?” Annie asked hopefully.

Sykes laughed.

“I doubt it,” he said. “They’ll do anything to get what they want and if that includes manipulating the world to get it, they will. Mitchell might as well say his goodbyes now.”

“No,” said Annie. “No, I won’t let them do that.”

“If you go to save him, you’re just doing what they want,” said Sykes.

“There has to be another way,” said Annie.

“Well, you are rather unique,” said Sykes. “If anyone could do it…”

“Oh, um, thanks,” said Annie, oddly touched. “I’ve been practicing everything you taught me, but I need to be able to…I don’t know, manipulate other ghosts or something like that.”

“That’s generally frowned upon,” said Sykes, frowning himself.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” said Annie, “but what else can I do? I just don’t know how to fight them on their level. I know how to…I know how to get humans where I want them, but not…not ghosts.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Sykes, looking worried.

Annie looked down, not really willing to talk about Kemp.

“Trust me, it’s part of that long story,” she said. Kemp’s voice screaming echoed in her thoughts and some part of her still relished in the sound. “You don’t want to know. I just need to be able to somehow defend myself while I’m there. Isn’t there some sort of self-defense for the dead?”

Sykes pondered that for a moment and then took off his jacket.

“Okay, here’s something.” 

He flicked his hands and Annie found herself hovering off the ground, unable to move.

“What the hell!” she shouted. She felt sick. She actually physically felt something, not just the hazy approximations of sensory input she normally did. “What are you doing? This is wrong.”

She was panicking, unable to remember what it was like to feel anything other than just being somewhere; these new sensations of pain were overwhelming. She wildly lashed out.

Sykes gave a low cry of pain and lowered his hands and Annie felt herself on the ground.

“Annie, how did you do that?” he asked, panting.

“You were hurting me,” she said, hardly aware of herself.

“Effective, isn’t it?” he said. “Not all ghosts are nice, Annie. We’re still just the people we used to be, and people dying under tragic circumstances, doesn’t always lead to the most well-adjusted thinking.”

“I get that,” said Annie, sinking to the ground, still overwhelmed by the tactile sensations she hadn’t felt in so long.

“Some ghosts attempt to…overpower their fellow ghosts,” said Sykes delicately. “We can’t touch the humans; at least the rest of us can’t, so they’ve taken what they can get. We ghosts are tangible to each other. They take that to their advantage. We’ve learned to defend ourselves against them, but it’s not something that’s done lightly or often. There’s a…code, if you will.”

“Does this work on the other side?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But it’s the only thing I know.”

“Okay,” she said, getting up. “Teach me.”

“Annie, there’s a price to doing it.”

“Of course there is,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s like a bloody film. What is it?”

“I don’t mean a material price and it might not apply to you. It’s just…the ghosts who aren’t very good people are more likely to hurt other ghosts, but the ghosts they hurt who defend themselves, for some reason they seem to cross over to become more like their attackers. It’s as if the very act of hurting another ghost makes you want to do it more.”

“Well, then I won’t do it that often,” said Annie. “Sykes, this is my only option. I can’t let them have Mitchell.”

“Do you think he would let them have you?” asked Sykes enigmatically, putting his coat back on. He held out his hand. “Come on, there’s a rather unsavory place that will be a good place for you to practice.”

Sykes talked her through the mechanics of the skill, but Annie barely heard him. It felt like everything he was saying she already knew. She didn’t know whether to be worried about that or not. When he had bound her, she had reacted instinctively, somehow knowing how to hurt him so he would stop hurting her. It was encouraging in a way; she had come here for that after all.

After Sykes had let her practice on him a few times, it was too much. For both of them. He was reeling and she could feel the effects of what she’d done. She began to understand what he meant about it changing the person who did the binding. It made her feel sick, but there was a kind of righteous thrill to it as well, to know you had that much power over someone.

“What’s so unsavory about this place?” she finally asked, a way to distract herself from her thoughts.

“We’re not there yet,” said Sykes. “There’s only one acceptable time for use of this method. I hope we don’t find anything, but I’m pretty sure we will.”

Sykes led her across town and they poked their heads around the side of a building.

“What’s this?” Annie whispered.

“A lot of ghosts hang out here,” said Sykes, his hand showcasing a courtyard in front of a rundown building. “Unfortunately, that means that some rougher types eventually show up. Most people leave at that point, but you always get the ones who think they can handle it or are too new or stupid to know better.”

Annie watched with him and saw what he meant. The place had been chock full of ghosts when they arrived, but after awhile there was a disturbance towards the back and ghosts started popping out of view all over the place. A few more ghosts came into her eye line. The most remarkable thing about them, Annie found, was that they were all different. It wasn’t the usual type of gang where you got the same types hanging out together; there were men, women, old, young, every ethnicity she could imagine.

“This is usually when it starts,” said Sykes. “Now, I’m going to get people to leave, can you handle them?”

“What, all of them? At once? By myself?”

Sykes grinned.

“Annie, I’m pretty sure you could take them down easily. You just have to try.”

“I’m scared,” she said, gulping.

“Look at what they’re doing,” Sykes said, pointing.

Annie turned and started to frown. The ghosts who had been there before were being herded into a corner; some of them already attempting to fight back, but the ghosts who had just arrived appeared to be stronger. Cries of pain began to echo from the square.

“Could you take them all?” asked Annie.

Sykes looked away.

“I’ve never tried.”

A small child ghost cried out in fear and Annie didn’t bother to respond to Sykes. She barely remembered he was there. It was almost like a switch inside her had been flipped and she was back in that place she remembered being once before. Anger built inside her like a storm and she moved quickly across the courtyard, flickering in and out as she went. The instinct and power took control and her hands moved. She couldn’t say she was without the ability to make decisions, but she had no compunction about making them.

Ghosts scattered in front of her left and right, her targets freezing in position, wailing in pain. Winds blew around her but she paid them no mind. Almost through a haze she saw Sykes guiding the ghosts who had been against the wall and they began to rent-a-ghost away. But that wasn’t enough. People should never be allowed to do this, living or dead. Annie was sick and tired of bullies.

She felt lashes of pain against her but they were more of an irritation than a serious detriment. A few ghosts appeared stronger than the rest and she concentrated her will upon them. She couldn’t say how she was fighting them, she just knew that they had to be defeated and she wasn’t going to let them hurt anyone again. Reaching forward she bound them together and pushed tighter and tighter. She could see the core inside them and it was rotten, she twisted that core and they screamed in agony. Thrusting against that ugliness, she stretched out her hands and the ghosts dissipated into particles and faded.

Annie felt a stab of victory and turned to look for her next victim. The other ghosts she had already bound hovered helpless and she grinned, moving for them.

“Annie!” came a shout to her right. “Annie!” She didn’t want to be distracted just then, but there was something about the voice that was familiar. “Annie, it’s over,” said the voice.

Annie shook her head, trying to focus. The exhilaration left her and she suddenly recognized him. Sykes was in front of her, staring at her in wonder and fear.

“Sykes?” she asked, a sudden dread igniting inside her. “Sykes, what did I do?”

“You…ripped them apart, Annie,” said Sykes. “I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”

“But I, I, oh, I didn’t mean…”

She sank to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself.

“It’s…okay,” said Sykes. “But let’s get out of here.”

“What about them?” asked Annie, motioning to the still-bound ghosts.

“Let them go,” said Sykes. “I think they learned a valuable lesson.”

Annie shuddered and released her control. They all rent-a-ghosted away immediately and Annie began to cry, alone in the courtyard with Sykes.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Annie, we helped some people,” said Sykes. “But I think you see what I mean about it being dangerous.”

“That’s an understatement,” she retorted, still crying.

Sykes looked uncomfortable. She doubted he was ever very adept at comforting crying people.

“You should go home,” he said. “Where are you living these days?”

“Barry,” she wailed.

“Wales?” he asked, looking incredulous.

“I know,” she said, trying to focus on anything other than what she’d just done.

“Then let’s get you home,” he said.

“Home,” she whispered and jumped up. Yes, she wanted to be home very much. Back with George, and Nina, and Mitchell. Mitchell, she needed to see him right away. He could help her wash away the awful feeling inside of her, he would understand. “Yes, I need to go. Thank you, Sykes, I’m so sorry,” she said.

She left and rent-a-ghosted home, Sykes and his worried face the last thing she saw. She took a second to adjust herself because she was so confused and horrified. She needed contact, some kind of warm and close contact. Since she was a ghost that rather limited her options and it wasn’t like Mitchell was a living, breathing human being, but he was where her heart was.

She burst into his room. He jumped up in bed, blinking in confusion.

“Annie, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“I need you,” she said and pushed next to him on the bed, kissing him, too frightened to consider this wasn’t exactly how she’d wanted their first kiss to go.

“Annie, what-” he started to ask, but she interrupted him, only pulling back enough so that she could see his eyes.

“I need you, please,” she said. “Mitchell, I love you, I love you more than anything and I don’t care what you’ve done and I don’t care about the future, I just need and want you right now. Please don’t ask me any questions, just make love to me right now, please.”

“Annie,” he said.

“Please,” she said, infusing everything she had into that one single word.

Mitchell pulled back and stared at her in the light that streamed in the window from the moon. She kept her gaze calm and intense even though every inch of her was just screaming inside for him to kiss every inch of her facsimile of a body and keep her thinking about anything other than what happened.

After a few minutes he nodded and cupped her face. 

“Okay,” he said, “okay.”

He leaned forward and kissed her tentatively but she couldn’t take tentative right then, she gripped him tightly and mashed their lips together with a force that was surprising even to her.

She was amazed at how much she could feel this, she hadn’t known what to expect even though she’d thought about this too many times to count. There weren’t the usual physical responses she was used to, but it didn’t seem to matter. She was entirely focused on him, on what something like this meant. She knew how it was supposed to go and that’s all she appeared to need.

He pulled her forward onto his lap and she ran her hands down his bare back.

“Can you feel this?” she asked him, her teeth clacking against his.

“You’re cold,” he said, kissing his way down her neck. “Soft. Beautiful.” He flipped them so she was underneath him on the bed. “How do you get your clothes off?” he asked, his hands roaming.

That was something Annie had mastered early on, tired of looking exactly the same, and grateful that at the time of her death she had been wearing clothing that lent itself to being repositioned easily. In a moment she was naked beneath him and he shuddered, closing his eyes.

“I’ve thought about this,” he said in a low voice, his hands playing across her stomach, lips trailing down her collarbone.

“Don’t think,” Annie said, as much for her benefit as his.

He chuckled and kissed her again, much harder this time.

***

Mitchell had been happily sleeping before Annie burst into his bedroom. One look at her and he knew she was devastated about something. He’d been prepared to listen to her tell him everything but he’d been completely blindsided when she kissed him instead.

He couldn’t understand and she told him not to ask questions, told him she loved him, told him she needed him. Something like this had to be a dream, but she was right there in front of him. Clearly something had happened to convince her to come to him and he was already on the edge about wanting this relationship to happen. He didn’t want to take advantage of whatever her emotional state might be. But she begged him, a single please being enough to make him thoroughly examine her face. What he saw convinced him that even though something else was the catalyst for this encounter, she had wanted it before that.

He kissed her and she responded aggressively. Something inside him, something very deep, awoke at that, and he pulled her onto his lap and proceeded to acquiesce to her desire for sex. But there was something so different about this than any other time he’d ever been with a woman.

Kissing her was like what he remembered from so long ago, she was cold, but it was…he didn’t want to call it refreshing, but perhaps bracing was the right word. It gave energy, the chill of her touch. He felt awake, much more awake than he had any right to feel after being woken up so suddenly. She was solid enough, but her body was soft underneath his touch, almost like she might slip away if he didn’t grip her tightly. Her flesh was supple in a way that had nothing to do with flesh and everything to do with the fact she wasn’t really there.

But no matter how she felt or how unusual their situation she was beautiful and he wanted to kiss every inch of her skin. She lay beneath him, having shed her clothes and she looked better than he’d ever imagined. He kissed her again, giving in to her requests. This was nothing tender and mild like he’d always thought he’d be with Annie their first time when he’d dared to plan it at all. Whatever had happened to her made her desperate in her movements and actions and he matched her speed, hardly noticing it after awhile because this was the way sex had always happened for him before.

He tried to maintain his control but he hadn’t had any prep time and pretty soon he felt the old hunger stir inside of him. It was so easy to lose himself in Annie, in the way her body moved and the eagerness with which she received his kisses. There was no blood beneath, nothing for him to take, but the mere motion of sex was like a trigger pulled and before he knew it, he had his fangs out and buried inside her throat.

There was nothing there for him and the hunger howled in disappointment. Annie gasped in surprise and bucked against him, knocking him backward.

“Mitchell!” she hissed. “What the hell?”

Reality slammed back inside him and he felt the guilt smothering the hunger. He stared in horror at Annie who looked frightened and startled.

“Oh, Annie, oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, backing farther away from her. 

“What was that?” she asked, her hand to her neck, but she brought it back down again.

There was no sign anything had happened.

“Annie, did I hurt you?” he asked.

“You can’t hurt me,” she said. “It wasn’t even painful. I didn’t notice until…well, until I did.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just…it’s so hard to control myself.”

“So every time you have sex you just…go all vampy?” she asked.

“Yes, no, it’s not every time,” he said, frustrated with himself.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Annie,” he said, amazed at her ability to think outside herself. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m a ghost,” she said, obviously trying for levity, “there’s nothing you can do to harm me.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he said, hanging his head. “I’m sorry, you just came in here and it was so sudden. Normally I have more time to prepare myself.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, throwing her head back. “This is all my fault.”

“No,” he said, “no, Annie, this isn’t your fault. This is my problem.”

“No, but I could’ve done this better,” she said. “I mean, I’m…in love with you, but I didn’t even give you time to say whether you love me. I guilt-tripped you into sleeping with me and-”

“Hey,” he said, gesturing to her, "come here.” She scooted closer to him and he took her hands, studying their linked fingers as he spoke. “I made the decision and there’s nothing wrong with offering yourself to someone, with wanting someone to love you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, but he could tell she wasn’t convinced. 

“I…have been thinking about you,” he admitted. “I thought maybe you fancied me but I didn’t think I would be right for you.”

“Nobody says fancy anymore,” she said, the sounds of a sob clearing from her voice.

Mitchell laughed.

“Okay, I guess George was right about something. My point is, this isn’t as sudden as it feels right now.”

“You thought about me that way?” she repeated.

“Many times,” he said, smiling at her. “But I didn’t want to encourage you because I didn’t want you to throw yourself away on me. I’m no good for you, Annie. I didn’t know how it would work. I was worried about something like this. When I get like that, I, I can't control myself."

"I guess, who would we be kidding trying to have a relationship?” she said softly. “It's…we can't do anything that normal couples do. We can't have children. We can barely have sex."

“That might not be such a bad thing,” he said.

“What?” she asked.

He sighed and tried to explain.

"What sex is to me…it's a weapon. It's never been about love, it's never even been about lust. It's just…it's just the blood.” She nodded and looked away. Mitchell thought about it for a moment because all his pondering on the subject was coming to the fore right now. He’d been avoiding this conversation, but those few moments with her had been eye opening. When she’d asked him to help her, he knew that he loved her. So maybe, just maybe, this was something he could have, something beautiful before the end. If she wanted, if she could accept it. He took a deep breath and kept speaking. “But we can have something better than that. Something purer. Oh, I've done so many bad things, Annie. I'm tired of being manipulated. For nearly a hundred years I've been a slave to hunger. But with you, you give me a reason to take control back over my life. You give me a reason to start again."

“To start again,” she said as if tasting the words to see how they felt.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s scary. If…if nothing happens, then you and me, well, it's for eternity. Really forever.”

“That’s a long time,” she said, smiling a little.

Her response awakened a hope inside him he didn’t know he possessed anymore. She made him feel alive, as cliché as that might sound. 

“Oh, Annie, I’ve been running scared my whole life. A typical, useless man but I…I don't want to live without you. I can't live without you. I can't. I can't."

“Sh,” she said, putting her hands on his face. “I don’t want to live without you either.”

He put his arms around her and they stayed that way for some moments, just holding each other. He wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, how he’d gone to bed a single man with no hope of living and was now attached with something to live for.

“Do you want to tell me what happened earlier?” he asked.

She shook violently against his shoulder.

“No, no, no, please. I just can’t. Maybe later, I don’t know, but just for now let me have this moment where I get to be happy.”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “Can you live with what I did? With what I’m capable of?”

“Mitchell,” she said, pulling back and looking him dead in the eyes, “if there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that anyone is capable of anything. We’ll make it work.”

“Okay,” he said, worried at her attitude, but willing to accept it nonetheless.

He could be a selfish bastard sometimes, but somehow this felt less like a selfish desire on his behalf and more like something he was…meant to do.

***

Nina woke with a strange smell in her nostrils. That wasn’t too unusual, after all, she was pregnant and baby werewolf appeared to augment her already augmented sense of smell. She lugged her body out of bed and made the requisite trip to the loo, at least the eighteenth since midnight.

Putting her robe on, she made her way down to the kitchen. Mitchell and Annie were sitting at the kitchen table, heads leaned in close.

“Morning,” Nina said, yawning.

They jumped apart like scheming children and Nina narrowed her eyes.

“Morning,” said Annie, overly bright. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a pregnant wolf,” Nina said, watching them closely. Mitchell wasn’t looking her in the eye and Annie appeared to be rather flustered. “And you?”

“I don’t feel anything ever,” said Annie, laughing awkwardly. “Let me get you some breakfast.”

“Just not eggs,” said Nina, hauling herself onto a stool. “I don’t do eggs right now. Plenty of bacon, though.”

“Coming right up,” said Annie, jumping up and gathering food.

Nina looked to where Mitchell was pushing away a plate of bacon and eggs and stared pointedly at him.

He looked chastened and got up, leaning against the counter.

“Uh, Nina, maybe you and George could give me a minute when he gets back?”

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I’ve been reading up, I think I’ve got some answers for you,” he said. “Heard from a friend of mine.”

“Tell me,” said Nina.

He looked uncomfortable. 

“Nina, don’t you think we should wait for George? Besides, it’s just hearsay, really.”

“Fine,” Nina growled, resisting the urge to take a swipe at him.

Her hormones were on constant overload these days and she could never tell whether it was just general irritation or true dislike for him that was fueling her rage. It wasn’t just Mitchell. George was often on the receiving end of her anger, rightfully so, she thought. Even Annie was annoying, too bright and perky for Nina to take at the moment.

She ate her breakfast and went about her day, now incredibly dull since she couldn’t work. She did as much work and research about her situation as she could on her own and then put her tired body down for a nap. All she seemed to do these days was sleep, besides driving around to any free clinic within the area that wouldn’t ask questions and would give her checkups. She kept on growing, reinforcing her theory that this pregnancy was influenced by a wolf’s gestation period.

But everyone seemed to tell her the baby was healthy. There weren’t any tails or abnormalities showing on the ultrasound images and Nina had been able to forestall any questions from her old friends at the hospital. It had been a fairly low-key pregnancy so far, if one didn’t count the constant terror of what the child might be.

Nina went to sleep with her usual whirl of questions unanswered and was surprised to find herself woken later by George gently shaking her shoulder. It was dark outside and she squinted in confusion.

“Sorry to wake you,” he said. “Um, Mitchell wanted to talk to us, and you said to never let you sleep more than five hours. I think it was a bit more but I only just got home.”

Nina looked at him. He was still in his scrubs and smelled like it. He was obviously tired, with bags under his eyes, and his body slumped like it usually did when he’d ask her for a backrub. An unexpected pang of sympathy went through her. He’d been amazing the past couple of weeks, she had to admit. He’d been working overtime but still managed to drive her around when she needed him, he got her meals, making sure she was comfortable, and never once complained. At least not to her, she wouldn’t wonder if he did to Mitchell and Annie, but he was behaving beautifully and she couldn’t be more grateful.

It still didn’t mean she was ready to forgive him, but his penitence and attitude were definitely points in his favor. Besides, she missed him. She missed his quirkiness, his warmth in the bed at night, the way her heart skipped when she opened her eyes in the morning and saw his wide open mouth on the pillow. She missed being able to trust him.

Sighing, she got out of bed and made a trip to the loo before going downstairs to join the others.

Mitchell was sitting at the table, surrounded by papers and books. Nina raised her eyebrows and sat down.

“Where’s Annie?” she asked.

“Out,” said Mitchell, frowning. “Didn’t say where.”

Nina could have sworn there was an undercurrent of panic in Mitchell’s voice, but he didn’t look up, still concentrating on scribbling on a piece of paper.

“Was there a point to this little get together?” she finally asked, “or did you simply want us to judge your handwriting?”

“Right, sorry,” said Mitchell, putting his pencil down.

George leaned against the back of a chair, hovering above them with an anxious air.

“What did you find out?” he asked.

“I heard from Carl,” said Mitchell. “He’s really the only vampire I would trust with this information.”

“Right, the one who murdered his lover,” said Nina. “Yeah, very trustworthy.”

“He’s a good man,” said Mitchell, almost as if to convince himself as well as Nina. “He made mistakes, but he’d never betray you.”

“I’m suddenly comforted,” said Nina, but she let it drop. 

She still bore in mind the memory of a frank conversation over shepherd’s pie, and it had been the very fact of Carl’s remorse that had helped lead her to her decision to leave. To keep from falling into the same trap she was currently living in, complacency, compliance with the supernatural and the gray areas they lived in.

“Carl’s older than I am,” continued Mitchell. “He’s traveled more, paid more attention. He’s not one of the Old Ones, not yet, but he’s almost there. He told me where I could find some books and he gave me the word of mouth legends he could remember.”

“What are they?” asked George.

“Bear in mind this is a paraphrase of my own coming from vampires,” Mitchell warned. He picked up the paper in front of him. “The Old Ones warn that lycos have long been envious of the power and immortality of vampires. They are desperate to grab that for themselves. Since the only time they are stronger than vampires is in their wolf state, a child created during that time would be imbued with the wolf’s natural strength and ferocity, heralding a new species, one that does not have the limitations other werewolves have. The bite of this new werewolf would pass on its limitless strength to its victims, including any werewolves it bit, thereby creating an almost instantaneous transference in the power struggle between werewolves and vampires.”

Mitchell finished reading and put the paper down, rubbing his temples.

“What the hell does that even mean?” asked Nina. “That’s pretty much what you already told us.”

“Be fair,” said George, “I mean, if I were a vampire, that would actually make sense to me, to kill werewolves because anytime they got together it would be a threat, like slaves rising up to overpower their masters.”

“Great, now we’re slaves,” said Nina.

“George is right,” said Mitchell. “Now, I guarantee you that new vampires don’t get handed down this little legend word for word in some kind of orientation; that would incite chaos and spread panic. What we are told is how stupid lycos are, how pathetic, how weak, how envious, that we should always take the opportunity to humiliate and kill them if we can. We say things like, ‘never let lycos inherit the earth.’ That’s why Seth and his mates couldn’t help but try and kill you that night, George. It’s why there used to be fighting rings where we’d capture lycos and make them fight each other on the full moon, or get humans and make them fight the lycos.”

“You are sick,” said Nina, feeling like she wanted to throw up.

“We’re not the nicest bunch of people,” said Mitchell, his voice sad. “I’m just trying to explain why. Now, this doesn’t have to be true, I mean, this is only what vampires have feared would happen. Our own explanation for something that probably happened a thousand years ago.”

“But you think it’s true,” said George, pulling his glasses off.

Mitchell sighed and leaned back.

“Everything I’d read or heard about normal werewolves having children leads me to think they can’t. The baby always dies during a transformation. Given the proof of Nina’s very obviously healthy child, it makes me think something is different in your situation.”

“We could have just gotten lucky,” said Nina. “Or maybe this next transformation will…kill it.”

“Nina,” said George.

“Well,” she said, trying to hold back her tears as she thought about the possibility, “it might.”

Mitchell shrugged.

“I might think so, but Carl sent me this,” he said, picking up a book off the table. “It’s got a photo of the oldest written record of some tribe living in what’s now Eastern Europe and it appears to be written by a werewolf.”

He slid it across the table and Nina gingerly picked it up. George peered over her shoulder. Mitchell had earmarked a few pages and she opened to them. The picture was clear though the words within it were smeared and ruined by time in many places. The text was tiny and written in a language she couldn’t understand, but a translation of the text was next to it.

_It is our duty…right to take this step…The blood takers can no longer have the earth. The ritual is set for the next moon…blood…The words…An attack…We are success…We must run…Our sadness…the sky…A hope is left…Follow our example…the blood carries the way. We will find revenge against the blood takers. Our power looses the bindings placed…it. We are to keep trying…try…keep the secret. Only we know…the blood takers…scared at last. Bravery and anger….fuel the heart…to save us…make us str…we wil…_

“Bollocks,” said Nina softly. 

If she wasn’t already a werewolf she’d have a nice long chuckle about how far the human race had come, but as it was, she didn’t have anything but belief and fear stirring inside her.

“I’m sorry,” said Mitchell.

“What does this mean?” asked George. “I mean, I can read it, it’s-it’s-it’s really there. The translator got it a bit wrong, but I’m pretty sure the essence is there. So now what? What do we do? What do we do?”

“Calm down,” said Mitchell. “The only people who know about this live in this house. I mean, Carl knows I was asking, he’ll probably think of you two, but I didn’t mention anything and I trust him.”

“Daisy knows I’m pregnant,” said Nina dully.

“Mitchell, that’s true!” squawked George.

“Daisy doesn’t put any stock in legends and she was too young to get the actual story,” said Mitchell. “I doubt Ivan ever said anything to her. Cara certainly doesn’t know anything.”

“Herrick…” said George.

“Isn’t really Herrick anymore,” said Mitchell.

“But he’s out there,” said Nina.

“That’s not my fault, is it?” snapped Mitchell, then leaned forward. “I’m sorry.” He was quiet with some internal struggle for a moment before speaking again. “Look, there’s nothing we can do about that. Okay? We just keep this quiet. We have the baby, we watch it, don’t let it bite anyone, and go from there.”

“I can’t think about this right now,” said Nina, standing up slowly. 

Her brain was cart wheeling inside her head and she wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and pretend this was all a dream. Something like this should never happen to anyone.

“Nina, do you need help?” asked George.

“No,” she said. She didn’t want the reminder of him right now; this was his fault in so many ways. “I’ll be fine. I just need to…”

Annie popped into the room and went straight for Mitchell, placing a huge smack on his lips. She turned around and then froze upon seeing George and Nina standing there.

“Um, hi,” she said. “So, um-”

“Oh, just say it and get it over with,” said Nina.

This definitely wasn’t the worst thing that could happen anymore.

"All right, we're kind of…" mumbled Mitchell lamely.

"An item!" exclaimed Annie, jumping slightly, grabbing Mitchell’s hand.

He slid his arm around her waist.

"Yeah."

"Sorry," Annie said, “it’s just new.”

George, already strung out, thus all too apt to overreact, looked relieved and happy.

"It's amazing! You're a couple. We’re going to be parents. High five!"

The three of them lunged together and performed some kind of weird three-way high five that Nina’s brain just couldn’t process at that particular moment.

"And you don't find it weird?" asked Annie, looking at Nina.

George answered instead.

"I find it's the most natural thing in the world. Sure we all have our little idiosyncrasies. But ultimately it's about two people finding each other and having a happy and normal relationship."

Nina rolled her eyes and left.

“Nina,” called Annie behind her.

“Annie, wait,” said Mitchell, “let me tell you what happened.”

Their voices faded behind Nina as she made her laborious way up the stairs and to the attic. She locked the door behind her and lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, the text she’d read swimming in front of her eyes.

***

Mitchell paced around his room trying to decide what to do. He’d been dithering all week and now today was here, a day followed by a full moon. He couldn’t decide what to do. Nina was staying in the cellar tonight and George was set to go out to the woods. Mitchell wasn’t sure where he should go. Where would be safe?

He’d been staying away from Herrick the last few days, but he knew he was close, so close to finding the bastard inside those vacant eyes. If he did that, well, then he could find out the secret of immortality, but he’d bring back a Herrick who knew about George and Nina’s baby. The closer the full moon got, the more he was tempted to find someone about to die in the hospital and bring them to Herrick who was slower to refuse blood these days, the desire inherent in his makeup overcoming his current persona’s distaste.

Mitchell went downstairs and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. George and Annie were in there, Annie laughing at something George said. Mitchell couldn’t help but smile. He’d been so tired the past week but he’d also had Annie. Annie with her enthusiasm and sincerity and genuine ability to make the people around her better. And she was his. She’d given herself to him and he still didn’t really know why. She wouldn’t talk about that night, which made him nervous. But he knew something was going on and that made him anxious to be alive and around to help deal with it. Having a taste of something good, something separate from the hunger, it was addicting, and he didn’t want to risk losing it.

He’d go to Herrick’s, get what he wanted, then stake him. That was the plan; save his life and protect his friends. Who said you couldn’t have the best of both worlds? With a silent apology to George and Nina, Mitchell left, his mind made up.

When Mitchell got to the house he found Herrick sitting in the dark rambling.

"You say I'm a vampire,” he told the ceiling. “Like the story by Byron. It is bewildering, isn't it? I can…I could hear Nina's blood throb and pound through her veins. I am…hunger. That is what defines me. Hunger is the length and breadth of me now. I have these images in here…dark, dark desires and I can't sleep. If I'm the victim of a conspiracy to drive me mad, I confess it is working."

Daisy leaned against the doorjamb. 

“Wee lamb’s been going on like that for awhile. I think you’re getting to him.”

“You bored yet?” Mitchell asked.

“I drove way past bored a long time ago,” Daisy said. “Lucky for you Cara takes a lot of looking after.”

“You getting maternal?” Mitchell asked.

“Absolutely not,” said Daisy. “Once was enough. I’m off when this is done, I need wind and change. I’ll find myself a few playthings and we’ll get along just fine.”

Daisy left and Mitchell turned to face Herrick who shrunk away at the sight of him.

"Listen up; it's a fool moon tonight. Tell me how you did it, how did you survive that werewolf attack?"

"You keep asking me this. These are riddles,” said Herrick, so innocent and truthful it made Mitchell sick.

He sprang forward, grasping Herrick by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the floor.

"I haven't got time for this. The old Herrick knows the answers so we need to find him. Now! I know you're in there, you old bastard, I can see you sniggering behind his eyes. I know you can hear me."

"Stop this, stop this! I don't know what it is you want from me."

Mitchell kept trying, but gradually, he came to accept what would need to happen to bring Herrick back.

"There's only one way to bring you back. But I won't do that,” Mitchell whispered, resigned. “Not yet."

He went into the kitchen, defeated after only a few minutes. He didn’t know why he kept coming here to torture himself. He couldn’t do what needed to be done and he wouldn’t let Daisy or Cara. But he was close to doing so.

“Cara out there sulking?” Daisy asked idly.

Mitchell stopped and listened.

“I can’t hear her at all.”

“Maybe she finally got sick of waiting,” said Daisy, shrugging. “You certainly are taking your sweet time about fixing this problem.”

“If you’d just tell me the secret I could be out of your hair,” said Mitchell.

“I don’t even know it, love,” said Daisy. “I helped, but it was little baby Cara doing all the steps.”

“He entrusted that…to her,” said Mitchell in disgust. “I was his right hand man for decades and yet he tells her his secrets.”

“If you think about it, it’s actually a compliment to you,” said Daisy.

“What do you mean?”

“He was going to fight you,” said Daisy like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He had to consider the fact that he might die, at your hands, so he had to tell someone. He didn’t have anyone he could trust, no, not anymore, but there was dumb, loyal Cara, who didn’t know any better and she was locked under his sway, determined to see him come back if she could.”

“I guess,” said Mitchell, churning that over in his mind.

A loud cry and crunching sound interrupted them. They smelled the blood at the same time, their eyes going black without any conscious effort.

Mitchell ran for the front room but he was too late. Cara stood, beaming with success in the doorway while the body of a woman was sprawled across the floor. Herrick was crouched over her, greedily drinking, oblivious to anything else happening.

“What have you done?” Mitchell said, though a part of him was rejoicing that even though he hadn’t done it, it had been done.

He still crossed the room and pulled Herrick off, flinging him backward. Mitchell fought to keep from crouching down and finishing the woman himself. He put his fingers down to feel for a pulse, carefully avoiding looking at her. She was dead.

“You were too slow and weak,” said Cara. “You think I don’t think, but it come to me, flashing in my head, what needed doing and I done it. Now watch our king rise in glory!”

A growling Herrick kept trying to push past Mitchell who was frozen next to the woman, desperately fighting to keep from bending down and drinking. Slowly Herrick quieted, his posture straightening, the look on his blood smeared face becoming clearer.

“Herrick?” asked Mitchell quietly.

A slow smile spread across Herrick’s face.

“Mitchell, Mitchell, Mitchell. We meet again.”

Cara pushed past Mitchell to grasp a hold of Herrick.

“You’re well,” she said. “Oh, my darling, I healed you.”

“Don’t touch me,” said Herrick sharply.

“Don’t you know me, dearest?” asked Cara, putting her hands on his face.

Herrick pulled back from her.

“I know full well who you are. Now get back where you belong.”

Cara stepped back, blank face confused and pained.

“But we are- I'm your Cara, the Chosen One. Together we are divinity!"

Herrick smiled, his face cruel, and Mitchell could well remember having that smile directed at him, especially in his early stages as a vampire. He couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Cara. If once Herrick decided he didn’t need you anymore, he was ice and brutality.

"You're filth. I can smell your stink and it turns my stomach."

Cara stepped back again as if he’d physically hit her. Tears filled her eyes and she held out her hands.

"But I'm nothing without you,” she whispered.

"Well, then, you are nothing,” Herrick answered and silence filled the air.

Mitchell held out his hand to Cara.

“Come on,” he said, “come away.”

“Back to the kitchen, baby doll,” said Daisy.

Cara looked from them to Herrick and then rushed to the fireplace and grabbed a piece of kindling and thrust it into her heart.

“Cara, no,” said Mitchell, running for her, but she was already dust.

Herrick laughed merrily.

“That’s one way to get rid of the help,” he said. “Well, then, how are you two? I appear to be whole again, more’s the luck. What have I missed?”

“Do you remember the last month?” asked Mitchell, still in shock about Cara.

“Vividly,” said Herrick. “You tried to stake me.”

“Just returning the favor,” said Mitchell, struggling for control of himself.

“Well, I’m not inclined to help you for it,” said Herrick, inspecting his clothing and wrist manacles. “I don’t suppose one of you could help me with these?”

“Come here,” said Mitchell, pulling Daisy back to the kitchen. “You can’t let him out,” he said.

“Why ever not?” asked Daisy in a fake innocent voice. “I don’t have the time to take care of him and my concern was Cara.”

“And vengeance on me,” said Mitchell.

“There is that,” said Daisy, grinning wickedly.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” said Mitchell.

“I think I know exactly what I’m doing,” said Daisy. She pointed outside. “Moon’s rising soon.” Mitchell cursed and went back into the front room only to find it empty, the manacles neatly curled on the table, the dead woman lying there, blood congealing on her body. “Oops,” said Daisy. “Looks like if you want that secret you’ll have to run for it.”

Mitchell didn’t have enough foul words to say at that moment. His choice appeared made for him. He had to go after Herrick because he had no doubt Herrick was going after Nina. If he got there before the wolves transformed there would be little they could do to stop him. Even so Mitchell would be putting himself in the way of getting killed by a werewolf. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end. Either way twisted his insides with pain but he’d rather die trying to save them than any other way, especially since this was all his fault.

Mitchell took off running for the house, Daisy following in his footsteps lazily.


	12. Chapter 12

George sat on the stairs attempting not to bang his head against the wall. To do so would be unproductive and probably hurt like hell. Still, it felt like the only thing he could do, the only thing he could control in his life. Everything just kept getting compounded. He turned into a werewolf, cheated on his girlfriend, got her pregnant, and now it turned out they could well be the parents of some kind of werewolf mutant who was supposed to rid the world of vampires or something like that.

He’d be handling this a lot better if he knew Nina’s feelings on the matter but she’d been withdrawn since Mitchell’s revelation. He couldn’t blame her. He knew she wanted him to be their baby’s father, but that told him nothing about how she felt about him herself. He was worried too, about her self-confidence, seeing as how she’d been anxious about becoming any kind of a mother, let alone the mother of such a child. He ached to be able to help her, but he knew he had to wait for her to come to him. He couldn’t push his way back into her life, play on her worry about being a mother, guilt her into being his girlfriend again.

It was so tempting, but George was learning, if slowly. 

Still, that left him with not a lot to do but worry about it himself. He wasn’t what anyone would call a calm and collected person at the best of times. Being a porter left a lot of room for his brain to come up with at least thirty worst case scenarios for every mess he cleaned. His dreams were filled with hairy children ripping people’s throats out while he stood behind them beaming with pride. Not exactly the stuff to build the confidence of a father to be.

A creak in the floor alerted him to the fact that Nina was getting out of bed. He pondered for a second if he should try to run so it wouldn’t look like he was creepily staring at her bedroom door, but odds were she knew he was there. He leaned back on his elbows, letting the edge of the stair behind him dig into the middle of his back, and closed his eyes.

The door opened and shuffling footsteps echoed in the empty hallway.

“Are you my watchdog?” asked Nina, but for the first time in weeks, her tone wasn’t edged with betrayal.

George opened his eyes.

“Some watchdog I’d be, sleeping on the job.”

“Even watchdogs need their sleep,” she said, sitting on the step below him with a sigh.

“Fat chance of that these days,” he said, then frowned. “Are you sure that’s comfortable?”

“Not likely to be,” she said, “but it will do for the moment.”

“The moment?” he asked.

“George, just let me have the moment without overanalyzing it,” she said.

“Okay,” he said, not quite sure what to think of that.

She leaned her head back against the front of his knees and George felt slightly embarrassed at how quickly his eyes tried to well up over how good it felt to feel her in any capacity.

“When you think about the future,” said Nina slowly, “what do you think about?”

“Is this while I’m asleep or awake?” he asked.

“Let’s put aside nightmares,” said Nina. “I’m sure we both have enough of them so no need to dwell on them when we’re awake.”

“Well, then, I think about you and the baby,” he said simply, not wanting to overwhelm her with some of his more elaborate fantasies.

“What are we, like a family?” she asked.

“Ideally, yes,” he answered.

“And where do we live?” she asked.

“A house,” he said idly, his brain starting to work the idea now that she’d brought it up. “Back in England, maybe in the country.”

“So we can roam free,” she said, snorting.

“Well, it’s an option,” he said.

“And you and I, do we have separate bedrooms?”

Her tone was neutral, but for the first time George could detect something playful in it.

“Nope,” he said. “Not even a little bit.”

“And do we live alone, or is there a ghost and a vampire in the attic?”

George clenched his jaw. Ah, there was the catch.

“That depends,” he said, deliberately slowly, “what would you like in this picture of the future?”

“I don’t honestly know,” said Nina. “Regardless of my issues with Mitchell, Annie is my best friend. I truly love her and care about her and I understand that she’s in a very unique situation and not one she can help.”

“Does that mean you’d want to live with Annie, but not Mitchell?” asked George, everything inside him hoping she’d say no.

“I don’t know, George,” said Nina. “I go back and forth, thinking about it constantly trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do, who I’m supposed to trust, what I can accept or forgive or be.”

“Sounds exhausting,” said George, still trying to keep things light.

“Try doing it while you’re pregnant,” said Nina wryly.

“Hmmm,” was all he said to that.

They were silent for a long moment. George didn’t want to say anything, didn’t want to argue, to bring up all the things he’d brought up before. Somehow he knew that wasn’t what this conversation was about. Nina didn’t need reasons, she knew them all; what she needed was a sounding board, a listening post, someone to just hear her out. His tendency would be to override her concerns, fix her problems with his own logic, but he’d learned that would be disastrous.

“This life brings so many…moral issues with it,” began Nina after awhile. “Things I never thought I’d have to deal with. It’s a bog of compromises. You accept one thing, you have to accept another, and before you know it you’re friends with a mass murderer and an accessory to a massacre.”

“Oh, Nina,” he said, but she held up her hand and he didn’t continue.

“I want to stay separate, to stay appalled,” she said. “Sometimes I think if I can just cling to that, then somehow I won’t be compromised. But…I don’t know how to get away, I don’t know how not to be in this life. I’m carrying this life inside me. I’m in love with this life. So…it’s a no-win situation. I’m damned. I am the evil.”

George let the tears fall this time because he knew what she meant and yet he’d had such a different experience than she had. But it hurt him to know how hurt she was, how conflicted. Somewhere along the way she’d become a part of him, connected to everything, and, in a way, her pain was his own.

“Nina,” he said hoarsely. “I-I don’t know what to tell you or how to make it better. But, h-here’s what I believe about you. You don’t make compromises, you make stands. That’s what I…love about you. The very fact that you struggle with this, it proves your humanity…it proves you’re still you.”

“Who am I?” she asked, her own tears sounding in her voice.

“You’re beautiful and strong and good. Maybe you don’t want to hear this, but Mitchell told me once you had a courageous and honest soul. I believe that with everything I am.”

“So how do I be honest with myself?” she asked.

He put his hand on the top of her head and swept her hair back toward her ears.

“I can’t answer that for you. But I think you’re on-on the right track, asking questions, struggling with it. Don’t ever become complacent.”

“Aren’t you complacent?”

“Maybe I am,” he said. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Great, my guide is having a personal crisis,” she said, laughing amidst her tears.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not exactly known for my great timing.”

“I suppose not,” she said. “We really couldn’t have met at a worse time.”

“No, but I don’t regret loving you,” he said softly. “I just regret hurting you.”

“I appreciate that,” she said. “I sometimes wonder if I just wish this had never happened. If I had never met you or if I had just let you give me that note. I’d be working at the hospital, blissfully unaware of this world, scarred in only one place, definitely not pregnant.”

“So would you change it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, turning to look at him. “I just don’t know. The longer I’m pregnant the more I feel connected to this child and I don’t know what I would do if I lost it. Then…there’s you. I think about not knowing you and it’s like I’ve lost something precious.”

“Even after everything I’ve done to you,” he said haltingly, an ache in the back of his throat.

“Even then,” she said. “That’s partially what makes this so hard. Because it would be so easy to just let go and forgive you.”

“Do you think you ever will?” he had to ask.

“Ask me again sometime,” she said. “All I know is that in some ways it would be easier, maybe it would even be better, if I could just let go of this desire to return to the human world and live by their morality and code, it’s physically impossible anyway.”

“Maybe you take what’s true about both worlds,” he said. “I don’t know if everything’s compatible, but I’ve found good on both sides and that makes me want…want to put them together and somehow make something beautifully, beautifully new. To prove my humanity, but somehow find peace with the wolf.”

“I wish you luck,” she said. “Pass me the secret when you find it, okay?”

“You got it,” he said. “I’ll, I’ll do anything for you, you know? Not to pressure you or influence you, I just want you to know that.”

“I got the message,” she said, squeezing his knee, a small smile on her face.

George opened his mouth to ask her what she thought about their baby’s likely future when there was a sound from downstairs, like a door slamming open.

“Mitchell?” George called, getting up and stepping around Nina, helping her to her feet.

Creaking on the stairs was the only thing that he heard. 

“Annie?” called out Nina nervously.

“Stay up here,” said George.

The hair on his neck was standing up, some inner instinct telling him they were in danger. This close to the full moon it seemed like the wolf could sense things he couldn’t. He glanced at his watch and was shocked to find just how close it was. He needed to leave for the woods.

“I think that’s a good idea,” said Nina, sniffing the air. “It’s not Mitchell,” she whispered.

A head appeared at the top of the stairs just as George started down them. It was a face he’d never wanted to see again, one that sometimes appeared in his dreams.

“Herrick,” he gasped.

“Hello, George,” said Herrick, smiling pleasantly. George pushed Nina behind him. “It’s been such a long time since you killed me.”

“You’ve remembered,” said George pointlessly.

“How observant you are,” said Herrick, idly fingering a knife George vaguely remembered from their kitchen. “Naturally I’ve come to return the favor. You understand, of course.”

George swallowed and looked at his watch again.

“You-you should go,” he said.

“Yes, I’ve timed this rather poorly, haven’t I?” said Herrick. His face was smeared with blood and he was still wearing the clothes Nina had procured for him. “I confess when Cara, well, I guess it was really Mitchell in the long run, brought me back I was just so gung-ho to get here I didn’t really bother to worry about the time. I guess that means there isn’t time for pleasantries.”

“If it’s me you want-” began George, unable to even process the information that Mitchell had apparently been secretly meeting with Herrick.

Herrick interrupted him, chuckling.

“Well, yes, in a way. But, see, George, it hurt a lot when you killed me. Even if I visited upon you all the various forms of tortures I know, slow, glorious torture, it wouldn’t really compare. But I’ve realized something; I can solve all of my problems with one simple solution.”

“What do you mean?” asked George nervously, brain endlessly trying to figure out what he could do.

“See, I know what’s behind you and I know what it means to you,” said Herrick, smiling.

“No,” yelled George, suddenly fiercely angry and hurled himself forward at Herrick, punching wildly.

Herrick tried to dodge but George landed a few punches on his face and he was driven back. They grappled for a few seconds, the knife falling to the floor, before Herrick neatly side stepped George reaching for him, and George hurtled down the stairs, landing hard on his head.

“George!” screamed Nina.

George struggled to stand up, his head pounding, feeling nauseated and dizzy. Somehow, despite his inability to know which way was up, he could still hear Herrick clearly.

“No offense, Nina. See, the thing is, your boyfriend tore me literally limb from limb. And aside from anything else, have you ever heard of something so undignified? The pain was incredible and I remember every moment, so now, not unreasonably I think you'll agree, I want him to suffer. But not for moments, for days, weeks, months, and the best way of doing that is, um, is to kill you. I do face a certain dilemma because you, you were nice to me. But I do have a reputation to maintain and we can’t let what’s inside you get out, can we?”

George struggled up the stairs, moist stickiness flooding his eyes; blindly, he wiped it away.

“You stay away from me, you bastard,” said Nina. 

George reached the top of the stairs when a sickening slick sound filled the air. Through the blood he saw Herrick sliding the knife back out of Nina’s stomach. She looked at George for a second, and then fell for what seemed like forever until she hit the floor with a loud thud.

George screamed something mindless because there weren’t words in any of the languages he knew for the rage he felt, the deep fear and pain. He didn’t understand what he was doing; he only knew he needed to do it. The wolf howled inside him, so close to the surface. 

“Must dash,” said Herrick, evading George’s reach.

Somewhere outside the pain came Mitchell’s voice and George focused on the sound, trying to gain some bearing on the world that didn’t involve this gut wrenching grief.

Herrick was gone, where had he gone? George had to find him and rend his limbs all over again, bathing the floor with his blood and not resting until every single bit of Herrick was destroyed.

***

Annie still spent time at her abandoned building, doing a bit of practicing, but mostly trying to find the courage to tell Mitchell what had happened in Bristol. The problem wasn’t that she didn’t think he’d understand, but that she couldn’t understand it herself. There was a constant itching along her fingers now, she wondered if it was because she wanted to go and do that…thing again. Owen’s words about becoming a god when you got away with murder rang in her ears and that was the worst of all. She could cope with anyone in her life except for being anything like Owen. Yet, she’d done what she’d done; there was no escaping that fact.

In a way she knew she wasn’t done yet. The sick feeling of the knowledge of her actions constantly weighed against both the intoxicating feeling of power it had given her and her fear of what might happen to Mitchell. Tonight was the full moon so she knew she had to be there, to somehow keep him safe. 

He was slowly unraveling, she could see it clearly. She was unraveling herself. Yet, oddly enough they’d been blissfully happy this last week - at least she had been, and he’d certainly given the impression he was. They hadn’t tried anything beyond heavy kissing, not quite ready to tempt their fate, but each time it felt a little more normal, like something she used to remember, something she could easily get used to. He made her feel comfortable, safe in her own skin, something she’d never known before. He made her laugh and let her ramble and flit around. Yet her secrets and his - because of course he still had secrets, it was written all over his body - slowly ate away at her happiness the closer they got to tonight.

So she had to tell him or do something, something desperate, like summoning her own door. Suddenly that seemed like an easy thing to do.

Shutting her eyes Annie rent-a-ghosted back to the house and into the middle of her worst nightmare.

Nina was lying on the upper landing, a pool of blood spreading out across the grains on the floor. Her face was ashen white and one hand clenched at her stomach. George was kneeling over her, a horrible keening sound coming from his mouth, his hands on Nina’s hair, bloodying it with the red stains all over his hands, blood was etched down his own face and more kept coming. Mitchell knelt too, hands soaked in Nina’s blood, his eyes black, but he was obviously trying to contain the wound. Daisy leaned against the wall, studying George and Nina with the oddest expression on her face. If Annie didn’t know better she’d have thought it was compassion. She didn’t have time to think about that.

Mitchell shouted at Daisy.

“If you can’t be useful and go find Herrick, then just get out of here!”

Daisy raised an insolent eyebrow but turned and went back downstairs, a door banging in the distance.

“Mitchell?” asked Annie, her voice trembling.

She suddenly couldn’t move.

“Annie,” he said, without looking up. “Get me some towels, bandages, anything to stop the bleeding!”

She nodded and popped downstairs, the request for help releasing her from her immobility. She grabbed everything she could find from their substantial first aid kit and rushed upstairs again. Mitchell took the things from her hands wordlessly and kept going. She wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing but she knew he was the most qualified of all of them to help, putting his field medic training as well as his innate knowledge of the inside of the human body to work.

She crouched beside George and put her arms around him. He lifted his head and she blanched at the emptiness of his eyes. He was still wordlessly making sounds of pain and it broke her heart. Silently she tried to give him all the comfort she could.

“Should we call for an ambulance?” she asked finally, ashamed she hadn’t thought of it before.

“The moon’s rising,” said Mitchell, hands moving. “She’ll transform on the way or there and, wounded or not, she’ll kill everyone in that hospital.”

“Mitchell, you’re not safe here,” Annie said, horror rising inside her.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he said bitterly, his hands still working.

“Well, let me do it, you have to get out, you have to leave.”

“This is my fault, Annie,” he said viciously, tearing linen strips in two. “If I hadn’t…Herrick was here.”

Leaning back on his haunches, he checked Nina’s pulse. His face told Annie all she needed to know.

George lifted his head.

“Did it…?”

“I don’t know, George,” said Mitchell. “We have to get her in the basement before she changes, then you can stay in there with her or you need to go to the woods, whatever you think is best.”

“What’s best,” George spat out, some of the fog leaving his face. “You always know what’s best, don’t you?”

“I’m so sorry, George,” said Mitchell. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re always sorry,” George said, his voice rising. Gently, he laid Nina’s head down and got to his feet, hovering over Mitchell. “You destroy my entire world, but you’re sorry!”

“George,” said Mitchell helplessly.

“No,” said George, pushing him. “No, I’m done listening to you. I’m through. We’re through.” He punctuated his words with a shove and soon Mitchell was teetering on the edge of the stairs.

“George, no!” said Annie.

“Every bloody thing about you is wrong, is evil,” shouted George. “I should’ve listened to her, but I didn’t. You are not my friend. Get out, you run, bastard, run, because I’m coming for you. Do you hear me? I’m coming!”

His last words were cut off as he suddenly doubled over in pain, his usual screams filling the air.

“I’m sorry,” Mitchell said again, looking at Annie this time, and then he turned and ran.

George lay on the floor, panting, and his screams suddenly cut off as his vocal cords transformed within him. Annie looked down at Nina, who twisted and shook on the floor locked in her own silent agony.

Her indecision bound her, each of her friends in trouble, each one needing help. What could she do? 

Before Annie could come to some kind of decision, two wolves were in the hallway. Annie could tell them apart, George was darker, and Nina smaller. Nina’s blood still matted her coat, but she appeared stronger in her wolf form. She was standing on her feet. George rushed past Annie and began nuzzling her, licking at her wounds. Nina put up with it for a few minutes before she sniffed the air and froze. Growling, she paced forward. George got in front of her but she snapped at him. He whined back to her, but she was obviously insistent on her destination. 

Annie watched them descend the stairs before they reached the front door. Mitchell had closed it behind him, but they didn’t appear to notice, bursting through. Nina howled and George echoed her. Then they began to run, hard on the trail of their quarry. Annie didn’t doubt it was Mitchell.

Annie reached up to her face and found it wet with tears, ghost tears, as inconsequential as everything about her, just an image of her pain, but she felt it just like she felt Mitchell when he kissed her and when she’d destroyed those ghosts. Slowly the steel within her began to return and she knew she couldn’t simply bide her time, waiting for everything to happen around her.

The telly flipped on behind her and amidst the static she heard the sounds of a child chanting in a sing-song voice. 

_This old man he played well_  
He played vein drain all the way to hell  
With a vein drain, neck pain, give a dog his bones,  
This old man is dragged back home. 

Glaring at the television, Annie felt her form flicker in rage. She raised a hand and the telly switched off. She raised the other and her door appeared in front of her, wood and cold and forbidding. With another casual gesture the door opened and she stepped through to the other side.

***

Mitchell hated himself. He really truly did. For once there was no justification for his actions, nothing he could blame them on, his nature, his companions, his circumstances. He was covered in Nina’s blood and even then he had to fight the urge to lick it. True she had the taste of a lyco, but her blood was mostly human, good enough for someone who hadn’t tasted blood in months. He was sick and wrong and evil. Everything George said about him was true. 

George: the look in his eyes, the pain in his voice, the righteous anger in his words, it all spoke volumes to Mitchell. He would never be welcomed again, never know the happiness of living with George, watching telly with George, teasing George, eating George’s food, working with him, listening to him rant about his worries. 

And Nina, poor Nina, drawn into this life against her will, bound by the responsibility of another life, everything about her crying out to let her go free and now she would be. But she didn’t deserve that fate; she didn’t deserve anything that Mitchell had done to her. Because he’d brought them together, he’d encouraged their relationship, he’d drawn Nina to George that night she got scratched, he’d driven George away to the facility where they’d reconnected, he’d brought Herrick into their lives, he’d moved them out here, and he’d brought Herrick back as surely as if he’d killed that woman himself.

He poisoned everything he touched. At least Annie would have a chance to be rid of him. The thought of her was like a knife, but he kept running. He didn’t doubt George would keep his word, the prophecy egging them both on to his death. He just hadn’t wanted it to be George. 

Not George. Not George. Not George. 

The words resounded with the slapping sounds of his footfalls as he made his way out of the city, lungs burning with his habit of breathing. He’d been running forever, though probably only about twenty minutes, and if there was anything to be said for having the strength and vitality of a vampire, he was unconsciously glad of it in those twenty minutes.

He stumbled into a clearing in the woods and leaned against a tree, hoping for a respite. If he’d been smart he’d have taken his car, or stolen one, but he hadn’t been thinking, just occupied with his need to run, perhaps outrun the sins that were following him.

“Tough day?” asked a voice from in front of him. Mitchell started. “You never did know when to quit.”

Herrick was there, still in his blood-spattered clothes.

Daisy was also there, holding Herrick by the scruff of his neck, a dead branch in her other hand, pointing it at his heart.

Mitchell couldn’t speak for a few moments, still gulping in air.

“What…are…you doing?” he asked Daisy, ignoring Herrick for the moment.

“Didn’t you ask me to do something useful?” asked Daisy. “Well, Herrick’s scum and he’s partially the reason Ivan’s dead, so I don’t figure I owe him any favors. But I could always let him go if…”

“No, that’s okay,” said Mitchell. The sound of howling split the night air and they all froze, glancing behind them. “But we’re all gonna die if we don’t get out of here,” said Mitchell.

“Shall we arrange a temporary truce?” asked Herrick pleasantly. “I think it would be mutually beneficial.”

“Shut up,” said Mitchell. “The dogs can have you.”

“Not a nice thing to say about your friends,” Daisy said, clucking her tongue.

“They’re not my friends,” Mitchell said sadly.

“Let’s go, whatever they are,” said Daisy. “I’ve got a car stashed near here, it’s our best bet.”

They all began to run, Mitchell lagging behind, his legs already trying to seize on him.

The howls drew nearer and nearer. Mitchell didn’t think he could run anymore. He somehow kept going; even now when his self-loathing was at an all time high, his survival instinct was just as strong.

The leaping form of a wolf could be seen dimly through the trees.

“How far?” Mitchell gasped out.

“We won’t make it, darling,” said Daisy, bounding to the side and heading for a tree. 

With an impressive leap she was in the tall branches. Mitchell looked around, Herrick tripped him, and Mitchell fell and got up, but hearing the wet panting of a wolf just behind him, he froze and slowly turned.

It was George, but he wasn’t attacking. He was simply watching and waiting, his mere presence enough to keep Mitchell and Herrick from running or attempting Daisy’s method of escape.

“What are you waiting for, George?” murmured Mitchell, some kind of acceptance taking hold of him.

A second wolf ran toward them more slowly. Nina. She was still smaller and lighter than George in wolf form, and she was weaker, blood dripping from her underbelly, but she was growling and George nipped softly at her head, backing away. Nina stalked closer to Mitchell and he closed his eyes. He was only a coward and he didn’t want to see it coming.

Nothing happened, the growling heading past him. Mitchell opened his eyes and watched Nina sniff at the ground before finding what she was looking for. It was the foot of Daisy’s tree.

“Bitch knows how to hold a grudge,” said Daisy.

Nina growled and leaped, scraping her claws against the tree. But clearly, she wasn’t in the shape to make it, sliding down to the ground and panting heavily.

George loped over to her, nuzzling her wound. She growled at him, communicating something. George, rather reluctantly, it seemed, made his way around the tree. He bared his teeth and made the jump, landing in the lower branches.

“Daisy, where’s the car?” asked Mitchell.

“Close,” said Daisy, her voice slightly tinged with fear.

Mitchell watched carefully, apparently Nina wanted Daisy more than any of them, which said a lot, both about Nina and the way wolves reflected their human selves.

Mitchell heard a noise beside him and turned to see Herrick attempting to make a run for it. Mitchell pushed his aching body forward and grabbed Herrick, slamming him into the ground, hitting him with a branch, and then dragging him up against a tree trunk. Herrick struggled, full of fresh blood, not nearly as active as Mitchell had been, though both of them were tired from the long run. Nina turned toward them at the noise but didn’t move, apparently too interested in George’s upward progress in the tree.

“Mitchell, we can go now,” said Herrick, his persuasive charm back in full force. “The wolves want her, so we can just go. Start over. After all, you brought me back, that’s surely worth bygones.”’

There was a moment of clarity for Mitchell then, when he saw himself in Herrick's eyes, saw himself in many people's eyes, and he knew what he should do.

“You know,” said Mitchell slowly, “you recruited me. You led me into this unbelievable world and I know I've done some terrible things but I've seen some extraordinary things too. I have more memories than I deserve, Herrick, and that's because of you. There’s a lot I have to thank you for.”

“I always knew there was something special about you,” said Herrick, smiling like he’d won something. "I knew we could rule the world together."

“The world was always ours,” said Mitchell.

“You need to know the secret of immortality?” asked Herrick. “I can give that to you. I can explain the trick. No one comes back from a staking but-”

“Except I doubt either of us will get a chance to use it. Besides…I don’t want to know anymore.”

Herrick paused, the first signs of doubt and fear in his face.

"But you've been searching for this for months."

"And then I saw the look of contempt on my best friend's face and I realized that this has to stop."

Mitchell shifted so he could see George and Daisy in the tree. Daisy was climbing away, but there weren’t any other trees she could easily make a switch to and Nina was pacing the ground. Daisy’s only chance was for George not to be able to reach the higher branches.

It would be easy to slip away right now, but Mitchell just couldn’t do it. He owed Ivan a debt and he even owed Daisy. He didn’t want to make George kill someone again, even if it was at Nina’s bequest. There was only one person Mitchell could allow George to kill.

Mitchell took a deep breath and he looked into Herrick’s eyes as he pushed the branch he still held deep into Herrick’s heart. The startled look on his face gave way to a sort of peace as Herrick’s face cracked. Blood bubbled up around the stake before mixing with Nina’s blood already drying on Mitchell’s hands. Herrick gave a last sigh and his weight vanished, his clothes falling to the ground while the dust spiraled upwards on the wind.

Mitchell closed his eyes, the sudden loss hitting him again. He had put Herrick to death once, but the second time actually felt final, much more final than when Mitchell had laid his chewed up bones to rest in a shallow grave.

But Mitchell couldn’t be done yet. He had to face up to his destiny. Now was the moment and he whispered a silent apology to Annie before he turned and faced the wolves.

“George,” he yelled. “Why are you going after her, George? I’m the one you want. I’m the one who lied to you, who got Nina hurt. Look at her, down on the ground, George.” The wolf stopped in the trees, looking down at Nina and Mitchell. Nina was still alert, but her movements were sluggish and she was bleeding, her dressing flung from her at the moment of her transformation. “See how hurt she is, George? I did that to her. It’s all my fault, so it’s me you should punish.”

George threw back his head and howled. Nina growled at him, but he didn’t appear to be listening this time.

“Mitchell, what are you doing?” asked Daisy’s voice. 

He couldn’t see her anymore, she was too high.

“Get out of here if you can,” he said. “If you see Annie, tell her I love her.”

“You’re a bloody fool,” said Daisy.

“A million times over,” Mitchell agreed, every inch of him scared out of his wits at the way George was looking at him. In a way, he was ready for it to be over, but mostly he was just afraid. “So, George, let’s do it, just you and me. I deserve it. I ruined your life. Come and take mine. It’s what’s meant to be.”

Nina was evidently getting riled up by Mitchell’s words because she was facing him, baring her fangs, not looking at Daisy. George growled again then leapt out of the tree landing solidly on the ground in front of Mitchell, and advanced forward, Nina flanking him.

***

Stepping through the door was like solidifying her existence. Everything was a bit more stable here, everything available for her to touch and taste and manipulate. Annie closed her eyes, a part of her feeling like she was coming home. Except she wasn’t. Her home existed elsewhere and she was here to fight for it.

“I know you’re there,” Annie said into the darkness. 

There was a long corridor in front of her and it was hard to see, yet she could sense other people around her in the blackness. 

Whispering answered her.

Annie moved forward. She wasn’t sure what she’d pictured waiting for her, but this wasn’t it.

If they were truly waiting for her to come home, shouldn’t there be a banner or something? If they were waiting to drag her to hell, then shouldn’t someone be rushing to overpower her?

Impatience rose within her, Mitchell could be getting rent limb from limb and all she was doing was walking. She started to go faster and she began to notice more detail about her, there seemed to be some kind of white glow in the air. Startled, she looked down and realized it was herself. It was like being at a disco wearing white, only her entire self was putting off a light, not just reflecting it. It was a scary thought, but comforting at the same time.

Nothing had answered her and she was getting impatient.

“I said, I know you’re there,” she said, bringing her hands up and extending herself forward.

The glow surrounding her pushed into the darkness and illuminated everything around her. She was surrounded by ghosts.

Lia stood a ways off, still dressed in her cute little dress, hands behind her back.

“Annie,” she said, as if Annie had simply rung the doorbell and she’d answered the door, “welcome home.”

“It’s not to stay,” said Annie.

“Are you sure?” asked Lia, smiling. “You did come through the right door and it was you who chose to come, after all.”

“Only to help Mitchell,” said Annie. “I can stay, but you have to stop George and Nina from killing him.”

“Step into my office,” said Lia, ignoring Annie’s words.

Annie followed Lia impatiently through a door in the corridor. They stepped into a girl’s bedroom; bright duvet on the bed, Audrey Hepburn poster on the wall. Looking closely at the pictures, Annie realized it was Lia’s bedroom.

“This is your room,” Annie said, perhaps unnecessarily.

“Was,” said Lia. “I was going through a phase…still, it’s a bit better than some corridor to haunt forever, don’t you think?”

“Mitchell. In trouble. Help,” said Annie.

“So it finally happened then, with you two,” said Lia, perching herself on the bed. “How is he? You know. In bed?”

“Lia!” said Annie.

“Oh, come on, just a little girl talk.”

“What game are you playing?” asked Annie. “People’s lives are at stake. Do you think that George and Nina will be satisfied once they’ve killed Mitchell? The entire town of Barry is in danger.”

“Someone was a drama queen in their life,” said Lia, “but I guess I’m one to talk. I did play you all, after all.”

“What do you mean?” asked Annie.

“Well, I certainly played my part,” amended Lia. “It’s easy to take advice from a poor trauma victim. Even easier to let what you’ve done to them drive you insane.”

“I know you don’t like Mitchell,” began Annie.

“Oh, Annie,” said Lia. “My feelings for him border on homicidal rage. So, yeah, using you to get to him was absolute joy for me. The bonus is you get to stay here!” She spread her arms wide, encompassing the pitiful remains of her human life. “We can be besties.”

“Right, you murder the love of my afterlife and I’m expected to swear a bond of friendship? You make my best friends into murderers and then you want to replace them?”

“This isn’t about me,” said Lia, drawing circles on her bed. “No, this has always been about you.”

“Stop saying that and take me to whoever the hell is in charge around here,” said Annie, “because clearly your brains were left behind when you died.”

“You sure about that?” asked Lia, but she got up and crooked one finger at Annie.

“I’m not screwing around,” said Annie. “I want to know what is going on, right now.”

“You’re so much talk,” said a voice from behind her, a thin grating voice. Annie turned, suddenly remembering once again the Gray Man. “You are nothing but words, little one.”

“I’ve power behind my words,” Annie said, struggling against the effect being in his presence again was having on her.

His smile was cold.

“Those pitiful souls you broke? Even Lia here could do that.”

“I don’t think so,” said Annie, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure. After all, she only had Sykes and his word to back her up. It had been so easy; maybe it was that way for everyone. “You want me back, there’s something about me you want.”

“I want all my children back,” said the Gray Man. “No one gets left behind in my kingdom.”

“You call this a kingdom?” asked Annie, gesturing with her hand and the walls of Lia’s room melted away, taking them back to the white room she’d grown to loathe so terribly. 

The ghosts in the hallway came with them; she was surrounded by a mass of them, some clearer and more defined, but all of them solemn. She felt trapped, like Owen had her against the wall of their bedroom.

“This is the only everlasting kingdom,” said the Gray Man. “So, come now, you can rest easy. You came to us, that is all we required. Mitchell’s fate is out of anyone’s hands.”

“That’s not very comforting,” she said tightly.

The television on the wall flipped on. Mitchell was standing, his back to a tree, George and Nina were advancing on him; he looked resolute but scared. A flicker of motion in the background showed someone else running away from the scene, Annie couldn’t tell who it was. The wolves tensed and leapt forward and the screen went black and the entire television disappeared. Annie cried out.

“You see, there is nothing else for you to want on the other side,” said the Gray Man.

Annie put her hands to her mouth, trying to bring back a screen, to see something in the real world. A glimmer of a picture appeared, trees and blood and then she kept getting distracted by the whispers of the ghosts around her.

“Will you all shut the hell up!” she said. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“On what? There is nothing there,” said the Gray Man.

“There’s George,” said Annie, giving up trying to bring back the images. The best way to help the others was to focus on the here and now. “Maybe Mitchell’s dead and maybe Nina and the baby die but there’s still George and you can’t ask me to leave him alone after losing everything he loves.”

“You came of your own free will,” said the Gray Man. “There are no roads back after that.”

“Then I’ll make roads,” said Annie, pissed off beyond rationality. 

She grabbed a hold of something inside herself and she twisted. The room exploded into fragments of light. The ghosts scattered, though some remained and began to try to bind her. Annie barely noticed them, small and insignificant. She could see the Gray Man in front of her, standing tall, flickering in and out of view, yet more solid than anything else in the room. She felt her anger, her rage, the gnawing inside her gut that made her want to tear him to pieces. Kemp had made her feel that, thinking of Owen made her feel that, those ghosts in Bristol made her feel that, and now the Gray Man was inspiring that rage.

Part of her didn’t want to go down this road. Perhaps there really was no coming back as Sykes had warned her, or just maybe, she was stronger than anyone had ever thought. All the times she’d been picked last, been told she should wait, that she shouldn’t try, that she was too weak or little or nice or anything other than what the speaker wanted rose up before her mind’s eye. Every abusive word and belittling remark Owen had ever said. With a small smile, she rejected them all. Whatever the cost, she would see this through because she could. She hated constantly being undermined and underestimated.

The anger made her feel taller and she reacted on her instincts, tearing apart any of the ghosts that tried to stop her from getting to the Gray Man. Lia lurked on the edges of her vision.

“Annie, please stop, this isn’t what I wanted, please, Annie,” pleaded Lia.

Some measure of compassion was left in Annie. This woman may have played a dangerous game and hurt the people Annie loved, but she had been hurt by those same people. Annie knew what it was like to feel betrayed by Mitchell, she could understand Lia’s motives, if not agree with them. Besides, there was always hope, Annie believed that more than anything.

“Go back to your room,” said Annie. “Go back where you’ll be safe.”

Lia’s frightened face disappeared and Annie concentrated again, wind whirling around, static crackling along the walls, spreading out from under her arms. She felt light, except for the burning rage inside of her, and she moved forward, ripping ghosts into pieces as she went. Their meager strength broke against her like water on a cliff side, enough time and enough water might wear her down, but they didn’t have those options. She was the death she’d once tried to be to Owen.

The Gray Man still smiled; she could see him clearly now through the storm swirling around her, unmoved. There was no one else, just him and her.

“You’ve proven you’re worthy, Annie,” he said. “Now, come and join me.”

“Were you a movie villain while you were alive?” she asked.

“I was never alive,” he said and she felt cold creeping along her spine.

“Doesn’t matter,” she gritted out. “I will get my own way.”

“Gray is such a deceiving color, don’t you think?” he asked, fingering his long gray coat. “So soft and light and unassuming, but granite beneath like a rock, or as hard to catch as a cloud, as confusing as fog, as devastating as a storm. Too many ghosts are insubstantial, following their paths blindly, but you, Annie, you refused the path entirely. You are as gray as I am. You’re perfect.”

“If you say I’m like you then I will rip you apart,” said Annie.

“Not yet,” he said. “But come to me and let me show you.”

“You’re sad and pathetic,” she said instead. “Your power is as transparent as the crown you think you wear, a king with nothing to reign over. The dead are beyond your control. _I_ am beyond your control.”

He sighed and pulled against her and she strained to keep from going to him. He was strong, far stronger than anything else that had pitted itself against her. She felt her control slipping and panicked for a second before remembering exactly what he had done.

“Tut, tut,” he said, as she continued to resist. “Shall I get the men, you know the ones I mean, the men with sticks and rope?”

Annie felt her heart constrict with fear and he gained several feet from her, but somewhere inside her she knew that those men were outside his control. She didn’t know facts about Purgatory, but she did know that this wasn’t what it was meant to be, it just felt wrong. The Gray Man, whoever he was, had taken it over, corrupted it and its inhabitants. The men with sticks and rope were real, she’d seen them, but they no more belonged to the Gray Man than she did.

He pulled and she resisted, but inch by inch, she was drawn closer to him. With a sickening jolt she realized he was too strong for her, she was going to be consumed into his nothing, and she was going to fail. She could fell anything in his kingdom, but he was the master here, even if it wasn’t right that he was. She felt fear flood her and she wanted to cry, to curl into a ball and wail, but that wasn’t an option. He gloated over her, but when he did his hold slackened ever so slightly. She grasped at her sudden chance, hoping it would work, because otherwise he would have her. 

She let herself go limp and he reached for her, the cold from his hand burning before it even touched her. She jerked upright and pulled, pulled his heart from him, squeezing as tightly as she could, pouring all her strength and fear and hatred into the motion. He was solid beneath her hands, an agonizing cold that felt like it would sear right through her, but she kept going, driving forth her power through his until he cracked and split open. 

The color he’d drained himself of burst into the room, bright particles swallowing his being, radiating the room with light until she felt dizzy. A sourness rose over her and she knew it, the essence of him was rotten and it needed to be washed from any existence. Turning around she swept the storm she carried with her into a frenzy, flushing the very memory of his being from the realm, to where, she didn’t know.

But it wasn’t enough. There was a hunger inside her, a desire to keep going, to eradicate it all, and to keep such a thing from ever happening again. In being almost conquered she had discovered the joy of conquering, and her fear of anything doing that to her again overwhelmed any other thought. There was nothing she could not do. She’d destroyed the Gray Man and the other side held nothing for her. She began to pull it down. Screams surrounded her but she ignored them. They were puny beside her might and she was going to fix everything. They were grit to be cleaned, dirt to be swept, lives to be situated according to her will.

“Oh, Annie, luv,” a voice said, wafting softly in her ear.

“Mitchell!” she breathed, stopping.

Only Mitchell wasn’t there. Standing in front of her was a ghost, solid, dark, unlit cigarette dangling in one hand, a look of irritation and acceptance on his face.

“Annie, are you having fun?” he asked.

“Gilbert?” she said, lowering her hands in surprise.

The screaming stopped.

“Go home,” he said. “This isn’t the place for you. You saved us, now go home.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her anger starting to fade and the sticky feeling of guilt beginning to fill her.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You need to go home.”

Annie nodded, hardly knowing what she was doing. But, yes, she needed to go home, to see if Mitchell was okay, to see if Nina was okay, and to help if she could. To only help.

She looked around her. Her power was evident everywhere. The walls were in shambles, but there was light outside of them flooding into the gloom the Gray Man had created; it made the place look almost beautiful. Ghosts were starting to come back, looking at her in both awe and fear. To her astonishment, some of them were bowing. Lia stood there, looking sad.

“Come back and see me,” she said hopefully.

Annie shook her head, unable to understand Lia, but she wanted to try. She just knew she was needed somewhere else right now.

Lifting her shaking hand - suddenly her power frightened her again - her door appeared and she stepped back through, back to their front hallway in Honolulu Heights.

Everything was suddenly much clearer. She took a moment to assess herself. Yes, she was still dead, still a ghost, but she felt solid, complete. Something about her had changed, she had the control back. She didn’t have to be afraid, not even of herself. Perhaps she had the ability to tear down the heavens, but she could also, perhaps with the help of the people she loved, restrain herself from doing so and build something instead. 

Going out the door she walked down the street. Turning around, she felt the early dawn around her. She smelled the air. She could sense the ghosts now, the lingering images of people, where they were in the town. She could feel the vampires, though there weren’t many here. There were bright patches, a very bright patch to the north, somehow she knew those werewolves. Humans, normal humans, she had no idea, but she knew without the shadow of a doubt where Mitchell was. Where George and Nina were. She disappeared, going to them.

***

Mitchell backed away from Daisy’s tree, trying to draw George and Nina toward him so that Daisy would have time to get closer to the ground and get to her car.

“That’s right, George,” he said. “Come on. Nina, let’s go. You just would love to tear me to pieces, wouldn’t you?” They growled at him. “I’m sorry it’s like this,” he said, once his eyes tracked Daisy fleeing through the lower branches of the trees, looking like a bizarre, oversized squirrel.

This was the end then. It felt like he’d been doing this for years, but he doubted even a couple of minutes had gone by since he’d staked Herrick. Herrick, dead and gone, and by his own admission, never able to come back to life again. Yes, Mitchell could come back if he was killed by wolves, but he had no time to tell anyone the secret, and he didn’t even know the whole thing, though he strongly suspected it had something to do with blood.

Blood was life, was normality, and all the things he could never have anymore. Perhaps all he was really eating for all these years was the desire to die and here it was, held up for him on a silver platter. Or maybe it was him on the silver platter, but either way, the hunger would stop. He would be free. He was a coward and now he would be free. Lia was getting her wish, the prophecy was coming true, and Mitchell wouldn’t have to fight anymore.

That was the easy part, the relief knowing that after the agony he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. Even though Mitchell knew it would hurt George to know he’d killed Mitchell, it would probably hurt Nina too, but Mitchell wouldn’t have to see it. He was just that selfish. It was cathartic in a way and he hoped it would finally help George let go of him. He could move on, help Annie with her grief. They were better off without him.

George growled again and lunged forward, Nina beside him, then stopped, smelling the air, his head got scarily close to Mitchell and he stopped as if confused, smelling Mitchell’s hands. Mitchell looked down at the blood coating him and realized it was mostly Nina’s.

“George, I did that,” he said, suddenly getting scared it wouldn’t happen after all. “This blood is hers, shed because of me.”

George smelled him more thoroughly, his tongue licking at the blood. Nina butted her head in between them, sniffing and licking as well. Mitchell wasn’t sure what was worse, them killing him, or not killing him. Either way, this truly was the most peculiar experience of his long life.

The wolves whined and growled to each other, some type of communication happening that Mitchell didn’t understand. They withdrew from him, Nina snapping at George’s heels. She was moving slower, getting weaker. Mitchell wished he could somehow bandage the wound. He was worried about the baby. He could still sense the life within her, but it was exceedingly weak.

Mitchell tried to move from the tree, but Nina growled in his direction, so Mitchell sat, his back to the tree, and waited. He waited for a long time. The night slowly passed until there were just a few hours till dawn. He began to get anxious. He didn’t want them to wake up from their wolf selves. He didn’t want them not to. Indecision and the desire to live again were starting to war inside of him. He was always conflicted, torn between two halves of himself.

As dawn approached, he felt the desire to hide himself from the sun. The wolves grew quieter and quieter, Nina laying down now and panting for breath, but every time Mitchell tried to get up, George would leap for him and pin him against the tree. So Mitchell waited.

Finally it was almost dawn and George was slumped against Nina. He howled in anguish as his bones began to break and everything inside him began to reshape itself. Nina was unconscious, her body shaking, but at least she wasn’t aware.

Mitchell put his head back against the tree and tried to calm himself down. He’d survived a night alone with the werewolves, two beings with every normal cause in the world to kill him coupled with an innate desire to create mayhem. He just didn’t understand why. Did they think he was one of them because he was covered with Nina’s blood? Did they somehow think he could help them? Did killing Herrick send them some kind of message that he was on their side?

The sound of a car rattled through the woods and pulled up to a stop beside Mitchell and his tree.

“Need a lift?” asked Daisy, poking her head out.

“Thanks for coming back just in the nick of time,” he said sarcastically, trying to work through the fact that he wasn’t dead.

“I saw that they weren’t going to eat you,” said Daisy, “I’ve been waiting to make sure they didn’t change their minds. After all, I don’t think they’d make the same provisions for me.”

“Maybe not,” said Mitchell, getting into the car. “I don’t know why they didn’t kill me.”

“Oh, honey, you’re part of the pack. Little lyco Mitchell.”

“What’s next, Daisy?” asked Mitchell, leaning his head back on the seat of her car, the smell of blood overpowering.

“Fiji sounds nice,” said Daisy. “Maybe I’ll freckle.”

“Or maybe you’ll stay underground,” said Mitchell.

“Maybe,” said Daisy lightly. “I’m not sure what’s next.” She sounded oddly vulnerable but it had been a long night for both of them. “Ivan was my compass.”

“You were his adventure,” said Mitchell quietly.

“Poetic enough for an Irishman,” she said.

Mitchell snorted at that.

“Take care of yourself, Daisy,” said Mitchell. “Try not to get into trouble.”

“I make no promises,” said Daisy. “I’ve no ties anymore, no ties at all.”

“You’ve got one,” he said, watching George and Nina make the final shift to human form, and getting out of the car.

Daisy winked lazily at him.

“By the way, Ivan and I lived here for a few years during the sixties. There was a…pack of lycos around here somewhere. We ran each other off several times. Don’t know if they’re still there, but it might be worth taking a look. That’s the last of my help.”

“Thanks,” said Mitchell. 

“Want me to send some medics?” she asked, grabbing some sunglasses from the glove compartment.

“No need,” said Mitchell, his eyes catching a sudden flash of gray in the morning light, kneeling beside Nina’s body.

Daisy laughed and peeled off in the car, her long curls the last sight he had of her before Annie noticed him and came running.

“Mitchell, Mitchell,” she said, hugging him. 

He put his hands around her, cupping the back of her head, and was surprised again by how firm and solid she felt. Even warmer than normal.

“Annie,” he said helplessly.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, pulling back and kissing his face all over.

“Annie, Nina needs help,” he said, holding her face. “Can you bring back help?”

“I’ll make them see me,” she said, a flash of confidence in her voice that had never been there before.

She winked out of sight. Mitchell hurried to Nina’s side, pulling off his jacket and tore his shirt into strips, redressing her wound as best as he could. It didn’t look good, the blood was too dark and her pulse was extremely slow. Changing back twice couldn’t have been good for her and he couldn’t sense the baby anymore. He bore pressure on her wound for a good five minutes before Annie came back.

“Are they coming?” asked Mitchell.

“On their way,” said Annie. “But I think I can help even further.”

She knelt beside Nina and then rent-a-ghosted, carrying Nina with her.

Mitchell stood staring for a second or two before putting his jacket around George and lifting him in a fireman’s hold. Groaning at the strain on his already overtaxed body, Mitchell began to walk.

Annie popped back in front of him.

“Annie, what the hell?” he asked.

She grinned.

“I learned a new trick; it’s pretty cool, right? I mean, useful too. I took Nina to the edge of the woods, that way they get to her sooner. Come on, I’ll take us there, then I’ll hide when they get here.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea I get noticed,” said Mitchell.

“Right,” said Annie, taking his hand. “Then we’ll both hide.”

He felt an odd sensation like he was walking through a cloud before he blinked and he was standing in a different spot and Nina was lying on the ground. George was twitching in his arms.

“Nina’s not breathing,” said Mitchell, too much experience with death to not be able to tell.

Annie’s expression turned stony and she knelt down beside Nina, smoothing her hair and whispered in her ear words Mitchell couldn’t hear. Nina suddenly gasped, her head rising as if she’d been shocked with a defibrillator.

Annie kept smoothing her hair, smiling brilliantly at Mitchell, who stood, slack-jawed, and let George slump to the floor, which woke him up in a hurry.

“What, what’s going on?” George asked, his blood-stained face grotesque, one hand barely keeping Mitchell’s jacket around him.

Mitchell would never be able to wear it again and that was a shame because he loved that jacket.

“Nina’s here,” said Annie.

George’s expression was hard and yet anxious while he knelt beside Annie and Nina.

“Is she…?” he asked.

“I told her she would be okay,” said Annie. “The aid car is on the way, George.”

George’s eyes filled with tears even as he smiled and he leaned down, kissing Nina’s forehead.

Mitchell stood there, watching the tableau, witnessing the affection and the family he could never manage to have, and he felt certain, absolutely certain, of what he needed to do.


	13. Chapter 13

George could never really say what happened that night. He recalled the blind rage and the intent to kill Mitchell but it had blurred into the normal feeling of anger and wrath. There were fuzzy images, the smell of blood, and he recalled a lot of running and climbing and then an odd resignation followed by a sharp burst of fury and then sadness and fear. 

Then he was waking up naked with Mitchell’s coat wrapped around him, his head aching and fuzzy, Annie and Mitchell standing by Nina’s bloody body, and hearing sirens cutting through the air.

It was still blurry after that. 

Annie had somehow miraculously set up a little campsite for them a ways off but far away from where they’d apparently spent the night to explain why they were in the woods. She had a pair of sweatpants that George gratefully slipped on and some battered clothes for Nina. The story was to be that they had been camping and Nina had been attacked, George had tried to save her and gotten hit on the head for his effort and then tried to carry her to help but she’d been too injured and he’d gotten a fellow hiker passing by to get help. Quite fortunately, the closest place for them to take her was not the hospital where George currently worked and Nina was well known.

Annie and Mitchell hid while the police questioned George and Nina was worked on before they loaded her into the ambulance.

George had his heart in his throat, barely paying attention to what he was saying the whole time. Then he heard a man say she would probably make it and something inside him unclenched. There was a mad ride to the hospital and then he was shunted into a waiting room where he paced up and down and then tried to clean himself off in the bathroom, before someone came to look at his head and stitched it up. Then it was back to waiting again. He couldn’t say how long he’d been waiting for Nina to come out of surgery when Annie popped up beside him. 

He jumped, tense and anxious.

“Annie!” he whispered sharply. “Most people think it’s weird to have conversations with empty air.”

“It’s okay, George,” she soothed. “People can see me if I want them to.”

“When the hell did that happen?”

“Last night was a long one for everyone,” she said enigmatically, her voice a little sad.

“Where’s Mitchell?” he asked, trying to sound as if he didn’t care.

“Taking care of the Heights,” said Annie. “You guys blew through that door like it wasn’t even there. Then there’s all the blood upstairs.”

“And Herrick?” asked George.

“From what I understand, Mitchell staked him,” Annie said carefully.

George buried his head in his hands.

“I almost lost her, Annie,” he said.

“I know,” she said, rubbing his back in slow circles. “But she’s going to be okay, so’s the baby.”

“I should never have let Herrick- Mitchell was meeting with him, you know? Trying to get his bloody secret of immortality. He brought him back to himself and then the bastard came after my Nina.”

“I know,” said Annie. “It’s awful.”

“I thought he’d chosen us,” said George, scrubbing at his eyes. “I thought we’d won.”

“I went back to Purgatory,” Annie said lightly.

George sat up and stared at her.

“What?”

“Yeah, I went to Purgatory. Wanted to stop you killing Mitchell and all that. Turns out…well, the prophecy was put into place to get me to do just that. So…well, let’s just say there were some extenuating circumstances.”

“How did you get back? What the hell happened?”

“I think there will be a lot of stories to share,” she said. “But for now…unless one of you hauls off and kills him, Mitchell is safe. Herrick is gone, so are Daisy and Cara. The other side can’t touch me now and you…you have a beautiful family waiting for you in the other room.”

“Annie, it can’t be that simple,” said George. “I don’t think I can forgive him for this.”

“I’m more worried about him forgiving himself,” she said.

“Are you just always going to choose his side now?” he asked.

“Probably not,” she said, smiling serenely. 

He really looked at her. There was something different about her. She was still Annie, but…well, there was a confidence in her posture and her sentences didn’t come out as rambling messes. At least mostly.

“What really happened to you?”

“I woke up,” she said. “I woke up and found that I was stronger than I thought. And more fallible.”

“That cleared that up really well, thank you so much,” he said.

She chuckled and hugged him.

“Oh, George, we can debrief later. Can’t we just celebrate the fact that we’re all alive?”

“Are we?” he asked dully.

“Yes,” she said firmly, smiling that smile again. “Now, I’m going to go home and make sure Mitchell doesn’t make a mess of everything. You take care of Nina and then come home, okay?”

“Okay,” said George.

What else could he say?

When Annie had gone a doctor came for him and told him he could see Nina for a few moments.

George stood and hurried into Nina’s room. She looked extremely pale and her hair was still matted with blood, but the machines were all beeping with the normal sounds that meant everything was okay.

“She needs a lot of rest,” said the doctor. “Luckily the knife missed her major internal organs and the baby entirely. The main danger was a bleed out and I’m not sure how she didn’t manage it. The whole thing is a miracle.”

George almost involuntarily went to touch his necklace that wasn’t there. He’d taken it off in preparation for the full moon so it was probably back at the house; he’d never had a chance to give it to Mitchell to hold for him. He felt naked without it, incomplete somehow. 

“The baby’s okay?” he asked hoarsely.

“The baby got the best deal out of the two of them,” said the doctor. “Since there was no rupture to the uterine walls your wife’s body went into natural protection mode to keep it safe. That’s partly why it’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

“When can she come home?” asked George, ignoring the part about Nina being his wife; that idea hurt too much.

“We want to keep her overnight at least,” said the doctor, “but depending on how she’s doing, maybe tomorrow afternoon.”

George nodded, his eyes glued to Nina. Her own eyes were fluttering open and he stepped quickly to her side, holding her hand in the typical bedside fashion.

“Hi,” she said, her voice raspy.

“Hi,” he said, struggling not to cry.

“How’s the…baby?” she asked.

“You saved her,” said George.

“A girl?” asked Nina in confusion.

“That’s just what I think,” he said.

She smiled wanly.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, it was hard to speak.

“Nina, I’m worried about you, you more than anything.”

“Did we hurt anybody?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” said George, “though we apparently came pretty close.”

“I think I…re…member,” she said, before her eyes rolled backwards and she went back to sleep.

They moved her to a more private room after that and George stayed by her side, snoozing lightly, all afternoon. Her color had rapidly improved every time he woke up, and her breathing was stronger. He knew enough about the monitors to know her vital signs were improving as well. It was amazing. To think he’d thought she’d been dead the night before.

He didn’t want to think about that because the more he did the angrier and the more ashamed he became. He wanted to tear Herrick to pieces and he wasn’t that sure about what he wanted to do to Mitchell, but those very feelings were the ones that inspired his shame. Could any human truly feel the amount of rage he felt and still maintain their humanity?

George had known darkness before, felt it in himself. He recalled the sickening thuds of hitting a man’s face over and over, each blow sending shockwaves of pain through his knuckles, but each blow a pleasure and satisfaction. That had happened when he’d tried to shut the wolf up, tried to send it to sleep.

But the wolf lingered out of sight, always in the back of his mind, merging his feelings with George’s. They both loved Nina, loved her as a mate, and they were protective of their child. They both hated containment and stupidity and being betrayed. Both of them had anger issues. So when had the wolf stopped being George’s excuse and become George’s reason? He couldn’t just say ‘the wolf made me do it,’ every time he wanted to pummel something. Somehow they were joined closer than ever and it was likely only to get more and more like that if the pattern was any indication. Did George have any type of self-control at all anymore? He shook with anger when he thought about Nina in danger and that was never going to change. It would probably be the same even if neither of them were werewolves. The difference was that as a wolf George could cause an awful lot of damage in the midst of a temper tantrum. There was no cure, only living with it, so George had to live with himself.

He hated constantly comparing himself to Mitchell, trying to see where he was more righteous, trying to see where Mitchell failed. But every time he inevitably did it, he only seemed to end up with more evidence that Mitchell had gotten the bum end of the deal and that George was a lot more culpable for things than he wanted to be. Mitchell had no wolf to blame his behavior on, George did. 

If George could accept the wolf within himself - and what other choice did he have? - then he could accept the vampire within Mitchell. No, it was definitely the man George was furious with. Mitchell had promised to choose George. He’d been given an ultimatum and he’d lied and no matter his intentions, his actions had led to Nina being hurt, to George almost killing…Daisy…and Mitchell? It was still all very fuzzy, but George remembered Nina being very insistent on killing Daisy.

That was a thought for another day. With a sigh, George decided he would just have to talk to Nina and Annie and then to Mitchell before he decided how he wanted to proceed. If anything Annie’s worries would turn out to be right and Mitchell would be planning some stupid noble gesture that in reality was just him being selfish and giving up again. George couldn’t let that happen. There was just too much else to think about.

“You look like crap,” said Nina from above him.

“Yeah, well, werewolf,” he said, spreading his hands and smiling wryly.

“Why don’t you go home and get cleaned up?” she asked.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he said.

“That’s sweet. But you smell.”

“I don’t want to see Mitchell,” he confessed.

Nina’s face widened in comprehension.

“Ah, I see. Well, take a shower here then, somewhere. Try not to worry about Mitchell. He…he kept his head last night and I’m pretty sure he saved my life.”

“He endangered your life,” said George sharply.

“We were the ones who sent his cure away,” said Nina wearily. “I don’t want to argue, George. Mitchell can wait.”

George was confused, especially with her defending Mitchell in any capacity, but he was more than happy to stop speaking about him.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Pretty good,” she said. “I could take a walk.”

“I doubt that’s a good idea.”

“Maybe not, but I’m pretty sure this kid is healing me or something.”

“That’s, that’s…unprecedented.”

She shrugged, then smiled softly.

“I think I love this baby, George.”

“I know I do,” he said.

“I love both of you,” she said, tears starting in her eyes.

“Nina…”

“No, I’m not saying it cause I almost died. I mean, I am, but I don’t care. I loved you before, it wasn’t the love that stopped, it was the trust, but, George, you stood up to Mitchell for me, you almost killed Daisy for me.”

“How do you remember all this?” he asked in amazement, finding it wiser to ask that question than to jump up and down because she said she loved him.

“I think,” she said, looking down, “I think the baby again. I don’t know. I mean, you remember bits, right?”

“Bits,” he said. “But that only happened recently and you’ve been a wolf for a much shorter time than I have.”

“Baby,” she said again as her explanation. 

She reached for his hand and George grasped it early, twining his fingers with hers.

“I’m so sorry for this, Nina.”

“I forgive you…for everything. I want us to be a family.”

“No separate bedrooms?”

“No separate bedrooms. You need to be there to stare creepily at me when I wake up in the morning.”

“For every morning,” he said. 

“Every morning. I want a ring,” she said, “and I want a wedding and I want a house and I want all of those things you’re supposed to have.”

“Nina, are you proposing to me?” George asked, flabbergasted.

“You knocked me up, it’s only right you marry me,” she said.

He started laughing and leaned over and kissed her. It felt so good to kiss her after a month of not being able to. Her lips were dry and rough and his face was dirty, but it was okay, it was just right to be able to inhale that sweet scent, the one that filled his best dreams.

“You taste good,” he said, leaning back.

“You taste like mud,” she said, then grew serious. “George, I forgive you for Daisy.”

“Thank, thank you,” he said, unable to trust himself to say much more than that.

“We can talk about everything later,” she said. “I feel…good about the future, George.”

“If you feel good then it can’t be that bad,” he said.

“If you ever hurt me again I’ll castrate you,” she warned.

He grinned.

“If I ever hurt you again I’ll deserve it,” he said and there was nothing more a man could say and be sincere.

He stayed with her for the rest of the evening until she made him go home and take a shower and sleep in his own bed, saying she’d get more sleep without him sitting there like a neglected puppy.

He agreed and left, but the joy that filled his heart was slightly overweighed by the heavy feeling of seeing Mitchell again. However he didn’t have to worry about that because Mitchell wasn’t there when he got home.

Annie was, she was in the kitchen cooking, once again doing about eighteen things without using her hands. George stopped to watch her, not as startled or afraid as last time. Something had truly changed in her, and selfish idiot that he was, he hadn’t noticed. She’d been going through her own journey of revelation and somehow come out on the other side stronger for it. She was still Annie, but he wouldn’t want to be someone who’d pissed her off.

“Where’s Mitchell?” he asked.

She looked up from the oven, delicious smells wafting through the air, reminding his stomach it hadn’t eaten anything in a very long time.

“Out,” she said, concentrating slightly. “He’s in town. Don’t worry, he’ll be home soon, but he’s making sure that nothing about last night gets out.”

“Covering his own arse again?” said George, sitting at the table and gratefully accepting the mug of tea she offered him.

“Let’s hear his side of it,” she said, sitting beside him. “George, he’s hurt me very badly and I know firsthand what it’s like to be in a relationship where everything is based on a lie, on abuse, on fear. But Mitchell does something I never saw Owen do…he atones. Whether or not that’s enough I don’t know, but I’m willing to at least hear him out.”

“Annie, I don’t want to lose him…but Nina-Nina always has to come first.”

“As she should,” said Annie. “Believe me, George; you’ll get no argument from me.”

“Thank God for you, Annie,” he said, taking a sip. “And your tea.”

“What a change that is,” she said, laughing and he laughed with her. “May I?” she asked, indicating the tea.

He frowned, but nodded. When she put her hands on his head, he understood and he took another sip.

She smiled broadly.

“Good?” he asked.

“I am the best,” she said, opening her eyes. “And, George, you and the wolf, there’s a peace there now, nothing separate in your head.”

“You can feel that?” he asked, panicked at the idea of anyone knowing the inner workings of his head and feeling his shame. “Hey, stay-stay-stay out of my head and, and get your own bloody tea.”

“I can’t help it,” she said, shrugging. “I didn’t know it would be that strong, I won’t do it unless you give permission, but I thought you should know what was happening. The wolf’s becoming you and it isn’t a bad thing. It just means you have to be careful.”

“How can you say that’s not a bad thing?” he said, his voice rising.

She smiled.

“Because I know you, George, and for the wolf to become you, means the wolf is getting an awesome bargain. I’ve never known anyone so obsessed with staying good, George, not even Mitchell. You’re stronger than whatever rage the wolf is bringing to you.”

“Annie, I-” he stopped, unsure what to say.

Could what she was saying be true? He’d been trying to accept his wolf, trying so hard to accept that he could be two things, a werewolf and a good man, but it was hard. Everything he’d ever believed told him different. Nothing but the fact that he knew three people who shared his fears had ever given him hope.

It gave him new things to think about, especially where Mitchell was concerned.

“Just think about it,” she said and wrinkled her nose. “And maybe shower, because you’re filthy.”

He laughed, the sudden desire to hug her overwhelming him.

“If people can see you now, you could set up a therapist job for yourself, you know. Supernatural counseling.”

Her face lit up.

“Really, do you think?”

“Yeah, I think,” he said.

“Cool,” she said, jumping up and getting back to her cooking. 

Not that it seemed to have suffered in her absence because things had never stopped making themselves since she’d sat down.

George made his way to the bathroom and felt the hot water beat down on his sore muscles, carefully avoiding his head wound like the doctor had told him, letting the water sting in the little cuts and bruises he always had after a night out as the wolf.

As a wolf.

Annie was right, however she knew about it. George didn’t feel conflicted anymore. He and the wolf were reconciled, cohabiting, if not happily, at least without fighting each other.

He was the wolf, the wolf was him, the metaphysics of it could give him a headache. 

The thought of Nina standing before him, ready to become his wife, banished the thoughts away. If he could have that, he could handle anything else, and he would, because he was going to be a father and a husband.

“My name is George and I am a werewolf,” he said to the empty bathroom.

***

Annie was glad when George finally went to sleep. The poor man was utterly exhausted and she knew he would just keep thinking about last night, about Nina, about Mitchell, and that wouldn’t be good. George had a habit of obsessing over things.

Not that she was much better; she was itching to do things now that she knew Mitchell was out of danger. The problem with coming down from an adrenaline high was that boredom was always lurking at the bottom. She wondered what else she could do. There was definitely the potential for her to go a little over the top with her new powers, especially since she was dying to clean the place, call ghosts to her, try and rebuild the entire other side, or make the things around her as they should be.

However, George’s idea of becoming a therapist was just tantalizing enough that she felt like there was merit in it and realistic enough for her to actually attempt. She’d think about it some more, but right now, the immediate rehashing after an event was necessary and she called to Lia on the telly.

“Annie, is that you?” asked Lia, her face flickering into view.

She didn’t look quite as perky and confident as she normally did. There was a touch of hesitance, and, perhaps deference, in her voice.

“How’s everything?” asked Annie.

“Well, there’s a party going on,” said Lia. “I guess no one really liked the Gray Man much, not too shocking, that.”

“But all those ghosts that I destroyed…”

Lia shrugged.

“We’re already dead, Annie. Besides, any ghost worth its salt left the minute you tried to throw down. Most ghosts that linger near the doors are pretty nasty and eager to serve whoever gives them the most.”

“So now they’re just gone?”

“Just gone,” said Lia, smiling. “And you’ve got a whole crowd of ghosts clamoring to be your new flunkies.”

“My what?”

“Minions, peons, servants, I thought you watched television.”

Annie got irritated quite quickly. Apparently Lia hadn’t lost all of her annoying habit of speaking in condescending riddles.

“I want some answers,” she said quietly. Lia paled. “About what his plan was, what he wanted with me.”

“I don’t know everything,” Lia said hastily.

“Well, tell me what you do know. Am I right in thinking that the whole purpose of the prophecy was to drive Mitchell crazy so that I’d come and try to save him?”

Lia nodded.

“And for my revenge, don’t forget my revenge.”

“Why the werewolf to kill him?”

“Natural enemies,” said Lia. “The prophecy was true, true enough, you know. All prophecies are possible, but the Gray Man just put it into play at the moment that best served his purposes. Besides, we wanted to drive a wedge between Mitchell, and George and Nina. But instead this baby werewolf got in the way, making them dependent on him for help. He wasn’t nearly desperate enough. So that’s when they allowed Herrick to rise.”

“So Mitchell would betray George and Nina for the price of the secret of immortality?”

“Bingo,” said Lia. “What a splendid job he did of it, too.”

Annie nodded, not wanting to think about that.

“Does that mean that Herrick didn’t really know the secret of immortality, it was all just planned by you guys?”

Lia hesitated.

“I don’t know, it all got a bit over my head to be honest and I was busy thinking up scandalous things to say to you when you got here.”

“Lia,” Annie said warningly.

“All right, all right. I think there is a trick,” said Lia, “but it has to be sanctioned by someone over here and that would depend on who was in charge and what mood they were in that day. So, I wouldn’t count on it always? I really don’t know that much about vampires and their ritual sacrifices, oddly enough.”

Annie nodded, processing that, and then asked her next question.

"So, why did you want us together?"

"Well, you needed a reason to come home. We weren’t lying about needing you to come back the right way. For love you abandoned the path, for love you could take it up again.” Lia paused, then smiled cruelly. “For me, keeping you here, depriving him of you, that would be his punishment, leaving him grief stricken."

"He was the weapon for me and I for him,” said Annie, catching herself before she let her voice tremble.

"Now she gets it," Lia said, rolling her eyes.

“So why’d you let me practice? Get strong?”

“You’re adorable, Annie, and smart, but not very smart,” said Lia. “After all, one just needs a little bit of muscle to think they can do anything.”

“You’re doing a great job of making friends and influencing people,” said Annie, about ready to go back to Purgatory and teach Lia a thing or two about manners.

Lia quieted, biting her lip, looking truly chastised.

"Sorry. Just give me a chance. I've got a lot of very commendable qualities, I'm chatty, but also a good listener. You could move in, I could help you rule Purgatory."

She smiled like she’d just solved all the world’s problems. Annie shook her head.

"This is all just one big game to you, isn't it!"

Lia’s face grew very hard and she spoke harshly.

"This wasn't a game. This was revenge. He killed me.” She jabbed her finger at the screen. “Let me tell you something about revenge, it isn't petulant or being a sore loser. It's righteous. Revenge is about setting the world straight again."

Annie suddenly felt piteous. She’d felt such things before, right after she’d remembered how she died.

"It didn't work though, did it?"

Lia turned away and sat down on her bed, looking out at her room.

"My room is all I have, you know. I'd come back here on holiday from college. My parents would make such a big fuss and my mum could literally not bear the sight of someone not eating.” Lia spoke quietly so it was hard to hear her. “This house is very quiet now. Since I died. My dad comes in here sometimes, lays on the bed; my brother's getting into lots of fights at school. This was all for them, can you not understand that?"

"And Nina? Cara? The baby?"

"Collateral damage," said Lia dismissively.

“That’s your problem right there,” said Annie, “because revenge never stops at the person who hurt you. We’re all connected.”

"You did a pretty good job of getting revenge yourself,” said Lia. “I think we'd be great friends."

"Yeah, all the murdered girls,” said Annie. “Lia, I don’t pretend to be perfect. There was a moment there when I could have well lost my way. Maybe one day I will, but I have people to help me. We’re all connected. But you tried to break that circle. You talk about your parent's grief; well, they're not the only ones. If his plan had worked and I’d been stuck there, we could have sat there on your bed and watched George losing Nina, losing the baby, losing me, losing Mitchell."

"I don't…"

"I would have made you watch,” interrupted Annie. “Watch him turn hard, cold, mean. He'd be like your comrade. The last victim of the Box Tunnel Twenty Massacre."

Lia’s face twisted and she turned away, her voice low and sincere.

"I'm sorry."

"You were out of your depth,” said Annie, sighing, feeling like it wasn’t really her place to throw stones, especially at her boyfriend’s victim. “I've been doing this supernatural stuff a long time and, trust me, grief and revenge are not things to get drunk on. I think you wanted wild and Biblical and…" she made a roaring sound and gestured with a clawed hand "…but instead you just woke up somewhere unfamiliar with your underwear on back to front. You became the monster."

Lia let out a sound of distress.

"I wouldn't know how to…"

"How to what?" asked Annie gently.

"How to undo it."

"Lia, this was never you."

"I don’t know who I am anymore,” said Lia in a small voice. “And if you go then I won't know anybody here."

"I know a few people, I'll introduce you. Gilbert," said Annie. “That ghost who stopped me, he’d make a pretty good leader of Purgatory. If only because everyone would be too busy hating their Gilbert fun to concoct crazy revenge machinations.”

"Annie, revenge kind of sucks. Who knew?" Lia asked, shrugging.

“You can call me,” said Annie, relenting. 

Being friends with Lia wasn’t on her to-do list, but somehow she couldn’t ignore someone who needed a friend. It would be awkward, especially because one of the only things Annie really wanted to do was snog Mitchell senseless when he got home.

“Thank you,” said Lia.

There was a pause.

“Lia, how long was the Gray Man there?” asked Annie.

“I don’t know,” said Lia. “He was always here for me. He took me aside, offered me the chance to make Mitchell pay. From what I can tell, you don’t really remember him unless he wants- wanted you to.”

Annie paused to consider that for a while. Hopefully the Gray Man was just a blip in the normal system; a system Annie didn’t really know anything about. Maybe instead of tearing everything down, Annie had made it right again. She hoped so; otherwise, she could have gotten herself noticed by the wrong people.

“Let me know if there’s any trouble over there,” said Annie.

“Yes, boss,” said Lia.

The screen went dark and Annie frowned at the idea of ghosts looking up to her. What an odd and terrifying concept.

“How’s Purgatory?” asked a quiet voice behind her.

Annie jumped slightly. As much as she was now hyper aware of how to find him, she hadn’t heard Mitchell come in.

“Well, I didn’t destroy it, so that’s good,” she said cheerfully, reaching for him. He moved away and she dropped her arms, feeling hurt. “What’s wrong?”

“Annie, just stay away,” he said, his voice tired. “If you come to me, I’ll let you, selfish bastard that I am.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” she said, moving toward him, wrapping her arms around him.

He let her this time, but stayed tense and still under her touch.

“Annie, I don’t dese-”

“Just shut up, Mitchell,” she said, her lips closing the distance between them. “You can berate yourself later, I’ll even help. Can’t we just discuss it all later? Right now I just want to reassure myself you’re still alive.”

He made a choking sound like she’d wounded him, but when she kissed him, his apparent struggle for restraint lasted only a minute before he was hungrily kissing her back.

That lasted only for a few moments while she felt desire rising in her. Then he slowed down, taking the measure of her mouth at a more languid pace.

“Slow,” he whispered. “Pure. Please.”

She slowed, able to see the reason in that request, remembering their conversation from before and how beautifully slow they’d been taking things. She closed her eyes and rent-a-ghosted them both back to her room. They didn’t have to have sex for her to be able to feel that he was there. Just holding him in the dark would work fine.

***

Mitchell stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. Annie wasn’t there anymore. After selfishly wanting to feel her one last time he’d fallen into a fitful doze and she’d gone. He hadn’t really slept; what good would that have done? Instead he'd just stayed on his bed, thinking about lasts and firsts and what he wanted to say. When he felt the sun coming he got up and went over to the window. Opening his thick curtains he squinted and felt the normal squirmy desire to hide before he let himself be bathed in the revealing light and watched the sun rise for one last time.

There was no more regret within him, just resignation. He was tired of fighting, of being used, of using others. He kept dragging those he loved down, making them roll in the mud with him. They elevated him for a time but he might as well be made of lead the way gravity pulled at him. It was true he’d never encountered someone like Annie who could stay with him forever, but he didn’t want to put that on her.

He could hear George and Annie moving around before George left to go to the hospital to pick up Nina and bring her home. Mitchell was just glad there hadn’t been any lasting damage because of his mistake, well, at least not to Nina.

Annie knocked on his door and then came in.

“Finally awake, I see,” she said, approaching him cautiously as if sensing how grave he was feeling.

She always did know, his Annie.

“Yeah,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Listen, Annie, once George gets home, if Nina’s up for it, we have to talk.”

“I know,” she said sadly, a look he couldn’t recognize in her eyes.

He reached out and touched her cheek. She was so solid now. Last night had proved that. Whatever she’d done on the other side, she’d found a way to anchor herself to the world. Somehow he knew it wouldn’t matter if the little pink house burned down or she never made any other human connections after he and George were gone. She’d found herself a place in the world and that made him feel better about what he was going to do.

He spent the day getting little things in order. He’d already done that the night before, making sure everything had been handled from their wild night. The forest was pristine, no signs that vampires and wolves had been there. The police and the hospital were both satisfied with George and Nina’s story and weren’t too worried about finding anyone to arrest for the crime. So long as George and Nina did a healthy amount of checking back in, there shouldn’t be a problem there. 

He’d made some inquiries on that pack of wolves Daisy had spoken about and from what he could tell some of them were still there. He doubted they would trust him so he didn’t try to approach them, but he planned to give their information to George and Nina. Perhaps they could find a family there that would be more suited to them. Packs were rare in his knowledge of the breed, but the ones that did exist were strong and banded together to fight against the vampires that would try to extinguish them. They were also very good at hiding. In his initial checks around Barry he’d had no inkling they were there.

Eventually George brought Nina home and Mitchell was shocked at the difference in her. She was walking of her own volition, color strong, both her and the baby felt alive and well to him. He was intensely glad. Nina went upstairs to change and Mitchell stayed out of sight in the kitchen where he’d been watching. 

George and Annie sat on the couch, waiting for her.

"I can't believe how quickly Nina's recovered,” said Annie.

"Yeah, well, it's the one advantage to being a werewolf, I guess. You don't survive shattered bones and major organ failure every month without toughening up a bit."

“Still, that’s incredible.”

“I think - we think - it’s the baby as well,” said George. 

Annie nodded.

“That makes sense.”

It made sense to Mitchell too. The baby was supposed to take away the limitations a normal werewolf had, and they were already far beyond the limitations of a human. Transforming had probably saved Nina’s life. Well, that and whatever it was Annie had done. He wasn’t too clear on that part.

Nina came downstairs and took George’s hand with a smile. Mitchell felt glad to see it. At least that was fixed. Now came the hard part. He shored up his courage and pushed past the kitchen doors.

Everyone stopped talking when he did, an uncomfortable silence falling on the room.

“I, uh, I guess I should start,” he said. He told them everything about the past month, how he’d gone to see Herrick, what Cara had done, how she’d died, and then how he’d tried to get to Herrick. He described the night in the woods in detail. “I let Daisy go,” he said. “I know that may not be what you wanted, but I don’t think she can hurt you anymore.”

Nina snorted at that, but didn’t say anything, a contemplative look on her face.

“So what’s the point?” said George. “What do you want us to do now? You-you betrayed us, Mitchell.”

Mitchell nodded.

“I know, I’m not looking for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. I’m…fickle. It's all about expediency with me. It's only skin deep. The vampires were pissing me off so I threw my lot in with humanity. They betray me…and I get on that train."

Annie sucked in a breath, but didn’t say anything. Mitchell didn’t want to look at her so he kept his gaze burning on George.

"So, are you the villain now?" asked Nina from beside him.

Mitchell smiled and shook his head.

"I always was."

“Then, what-what are you going to do about it?” asked George, in a studiously casual voice.

“I want you to stake me,” Mitchell said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“What!” asked Annie.

George started sputtering.

“You want George to stake you?” asked Nina, looking incredibly annoyed. “If you’re going to do it, why can’t you do it yourself?”

“George has to do it,” Mitchell said steadily, now that the worst was over. “I’ve corrupted all of you, but George most of all.”

Nina’s face twitched.

"You inscrutable bas- You can't do it yourself because it won't provide enough anguish! You've been killing for nearly a hundred years. All this bloodshed and turmoil, it's become your currency. Even suicide has to be some shared bloody trauma."

“Nina,” said George in a low voice. 

She looked at him and then quieted, biting her lip. George squared his shoulders and looked at Mitchell.

"What do you see when you look at me?"

"A friend."

"That's good," said George.

"A werewolf," continued Mitchell.

“Right.”

“I want to tear your spine out with my teeth,” Mitchell said.

It was true and not true. Some instinct inside him was still conditioned to be afraid of what George or someone like him could do to him, especially the part that had been told a werewolf was going to kill him. Somehow making the prophecy come true was oddly self-fulfilling.

“You know the prophecy doesn’t have to come true, right?” asked Annie. “I told you last night, I told you I killed the man who made it. It wasn’t even about you.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s not about that now, Annie. It’s about me. I am wrong and I am what needs to go.”

"What you're asking me to do…" said George.

"Could be heroic. George Sands saves the world," said Mitchell half-mockingly.

“Why are you doing this?” asked George.

“I make you culpable, George,” said Mitchell. “I make you look the other way. It’s rather pathetic; you were so desperate for someone to accept you that you lived with me, a vampire and a murderer. You might as well have come with me on that train and held my coat.”

George’s eyes began to water and he glared at Mitchell, stepping forward and pushing him.

"Yeah, I can see what you're trying to do, but it won't work. Do you really want me to believe this?"

“It’s the truth,” said Mitchell, already dying inside.

“Do you really want me to believe this?” George yelled.

“Of course not,” said Mitchell, his own tears coming. “George, why the hell would I want you to hate me? But you have to do this, George. It’s the only way. The only sure way I’ll never kill again.”

“Because you’ve given up, is that it?” said George.

“I put my life in your hands,” said Mitchell, falling to his knees. “George, I don’t want to die, but how can I live knowing I could hurt you again? I could kill people. What if I’m not strong enough? Going to Herrick just proves that my true self is more selfish than the side of me that wants to prove I can be a good man.”

“You’re being a coward,” said Nina.

“Better a coward than a killer,” said Mitchell. “I want, no, I need to be punished, but I can’t do it the mortal way. It has to be this. The hunger is strong; it’s too strong for me. I’m not strong enough. It gnaws away at me, George,” Mitchell said, grasping George’s pants in his despair. “Just being awake is all it needs. It never goes away; every second of every day is a constant struggle not to tear your bloody throats out!”

George looked down at Mitchell, still clinging to him, and tears streamed down his face.

“You’re an addict,” said Nina. “What do addicts do? What do other addicts do? If they want to be clean?”

“There aren't enough AA meetings in the world,” said Mitchell. “I tried doing that and it worked for awhile but…”

“But something outside got in the way,” said Nina. “Don’t give me the excuse that it doesn’t work just because you didn’t get a chance to find out if it would. Besides, what else do addicts do? They get sponsors.”

“You wanna be my sponsor, Nina?” asked Mitchell gesturing at her. “Look at what I did to you.”

“No one’s arguing that,” she said with a bitter laugh. “Mitchell, you’re the lowest person on the planet, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” asked Mitchell.

George and Annie were staring at Nina like they’d never seen her before and Mitchell could well understand their struggle.

“Because we all have demons,” said Nina softly. “Just because yours are more vile doesn’t mean that we all don’t have them. If we let you just give up…it means we’re all giving up.”

“Nina, this is different,” said Mitchell. “It’s not the being a vampire, it’s the fact that me as a vampire will never work. Not long term.”

“Long term happens to be an option here,” said Annie, speaking confidently. “Mitchell, I won’t leave you.”

“I know, Annie, but you can’t,” he said. “Oh, you can’t. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“I’ve never been a big fan of men who tell me what to do,” she said lightly.

“Annie-”

“She’s not the problem,” Nina interrupted. “You are. Tell me again, what do addicts do? If you were a heroin junkie, what would we do with you? Would we kill you simply for being an addict?”

“You’re comparing two different things,” he argued, feeling irrationally angry that his biggest opponent was being his biggest supporter at the moment.

George was crying, looking away from them. Annie stood, waiting, tears on her face, but much more calm than George.

Nina was crying too, but she was facing him defiantly, face stubborn and ready for a challenge. He didn’t understand why she was fighting him on this.

“You’re sick,” she said. “You need help. We don’t let people like you out in public, but we don’t condemn them to death for existing.”

“I’ve done things that would lead any country in the world to consider capital punishment too small a thing to give me,” he said, rising to his feet and stepping closer to her.

She faced him squarely, not flinching in the slightest.

“Clean slate, starting from now. We’ve already washed over those sins so many times that to debate it now would make the last year of our life pointless. As of this moment, Mitchell, you’ve never done a bad thing in your life, but you’re still sick.”

“I’m not listening to this,” he said. “Don’t you understand, do you think I want to go away and leave you all?”

“So why, why do you try so hard?” asked George, tears coating his voice. “Mitchell, why do you keep leaving me?”

“George, I don’t- it’s not that simple. I’m who I am.”

“I’m who I am,” George said. “You’ve always said that. Now separate out the supernatural from your problem.”

“That’s your problem, George,” said Mitchell wearily. “You’re always trying to separate the wolf from yourself. You do it all the time.”

George slapped his hand down on the table and raised his voice.

“You don’t do it enough! You draw too much identity from the vampire, trying to convince yourself there’s no other way. Well, tough, you don’t get that option. I hate you so much right now.”

“I suppose making a joke about staking me won’t work,” Mitchell said.

“Bloody right it won’t,” George said. “See, your problem is that you won’t grow up. You’re older than all of us, but you’re stuck being that little boy that got eaten and now you don’t know how to behave like an adult.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Mitchell, rolling his eyes.

“You have all the arrogance of youth,” said Annie. “You never lean on anybody else’s shoulders, never really tell them the truth, never let anyone help you. Oh, you make good tries, with Josie, with us, but you never really let people in. No wonder you keep falling down.”

Mitchell had to stop and think about that for a moment. Because, really, it was true. Every time he made an attempt and came anywhere near being truly clean, it was because he had let someone else help him. Every time he failed it was because he was trying to do it all himself. What a laugh that was.

“I didn’t want to burden you,” he said weakly. “I didn’t want to put you in more danger.”

“Good job with that,” said Nina derisively. “Keeping people in the dark is the dumbest thing anyone can do, as the hole in my side can attest. Got any more good excuses rattling around in that little brain of yours?”

“We’ve forgiven you your past sins,” said Annie. “We did it when we met you, without thinking really. It wasn’t real to us. So I had to ask myself when I found out, about the train, how could I forgive you that one and any one you might commit? Well, it’s a shame, it’s wrong, but, Mitchell, the truth is I felt so horrified because _I_ felt wronged. Even though you didn’t do it to me, I knew you when it did happen and I fooled myself into thinking you’d never do that again. But now I know that you probably will. That’s something I have to accept about myself. It doesn’t make it right, what Nina says is true. Evil is evil, no matter how much or how little or who it’s done to. I can’t tell you you’ll never kill again, I don’t think I should even ask, but what I can do is give you the option not to, the hope that you can do it.”

“It’s false hope,” said Mitchell.

“Only if you think of it that way,” said Annie.

“Annie, you told me I was on my last chance,” said Mitchell.

“That was before I truly understood what was going on,” said Annie.

“I’m evil!” protested Mitchell.

“And we’re not saints,” said George, rubbing his face. “I killed-” he broke off.

“I took Kemp without a second thought,” said Annie. Mitchell flinched, remembering how beautifully scary she had looked that night even though he’d been preoccupied with Lucy at the time. “I threw him into hell and I don’t regret it. You don’t want to know what I did in Purgatory.”

“Maybe you’d better explain that,” said Nina quietly.

Rubbing her hands together nervously Annie did just that and Mitchell felt both in awe and slightly afraid as he listened to Annie detail how she’d been practicing trying to defeat ghosts and what had happened the night she’d come to him. Then she told about how she’d gone to Purgatory while the rest of them had been in the woods and basically tore the place apart and then her further clarifying conversation with Lia last night.

It was a lot to take in and it saddened Mitchell to know that Annie had gone through that, mostly because of him. It did give him perspective though. It raised some interesting thoughts. It also bore witness to a lot of what Nina had been saying throughout their conversation. Of course Mitchell also thought it bore witness to what he’d been saying about how he’d corrupted them all.

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” he said, pointing. “If Annie, someone like Annie, can do things like that, then I’ve been here too long.”

“You’re so arrogant, aren’t you?” said Nina. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Never thinking that just possibly Annie went into this with her eyes open and did these things on her own and would have done them if she’d had another lover. Not that she should have been keeping secrets,” she continued, glaring at Annie. “A bad habit she might have picked up from you. However, I think you’re forgetting it was my life she was saving when she took Kemp.”

“But the idea she would even think it was okay…” began Mitchell.

“Excuse me, I am in the room,” said Annie, raising her hand. “And, yes, Mitchell, you’ve opened my eyes to a lot of things and taught me a lot and influenced me in ways I probably don’t even know, but if you want to have a competition about who’s influenced me in the darker arts the most, I think you’d lose.”

“We’re all, we’ve all got it…the darkness,” said George. “Oh, I could rip you apart right now with no moon in sight, Mitchell, I hate you so much for trying to leave me, for letting that happen to Nina. But, the point is, we all have it.”

“I have it,” said Nina, jabbing at her chest.

Mitchell looked from one to the other of the three of them.

“I don’t suppose you’d allow that it’s me that made you three that way.”

“Death made us that way,” said Annie. 

“Didn’t you tell me that not all souls are good?” said George. “That we’re a mixed bag? Well, we got handed opportunities and powers and ways of life that just make the choices a little bit harder than they used to be. All of us struggle with the darkness inside, yours is just a little bit more dramatic, a little bit more public, a little bit more every day.”

“So I should just be allowed to go out and do these things?” asked Mitchell. “No, please, no. I can’t use the excuse that it’s not my fault anymore, don’t make me.”

“No, it’s your fault,” said Nina. “But you didn’t exactly have good friends.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said.

“Now you do,” said Annie. “Mitchell, we have to help each other, it’s only by banding together that we can retain our humanity. For all of us, not just for you. You’re too used to handling everything on your own, but we need your help and you need ours. Let your pride admit that.”

“To hell with my pride,” he said. “I’m worried about lives, your lives.”

“You just don’t want to have to admit you failed again,” said Nina. “If you give up now, once and forever, then it was just because the dice was rolled against you and you lost the game. True courage is staying when it’s hard.”

“And if I mess up?” asked Mitchell.

Nina shuddered.

“Then the guilt is on all of us. We’re offering you a new way to play the game, Mitchell; if you truly play it our way, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about messing up, but if you do, I promise you I will be the first to revisit the ‘staking you’ idea.”

“It should only be the very last resort,” said Annie stubbornly. “You will have bad days, you might slip up.”

“And then you’d add more deaths to my conscience,” said Mitchell.

“No, you would,” said Annie. “What could be a worse punishment or impetus not to?”

“I don’t understand,” Mitchell said raggedly. He truly didn’t. He’d never known absolution except in small doses. To feel it in waves coming from them, it was too overwhelming. “How can you forgive me? George, you said you’d walk away.”

“So you just decided to walk away first?” asked George. He shuddered, trying to bring his voice under control. “I meant it, I do mean it. I need to think about Nina and our baby first above everything else. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t need you, that I don’t want to help you. If you refuse to try, I’ll-I’ll, I will…I will stake you, but…don’t make me, please, please don’t make me.”

“Blood, it changes me,” said Mitchell, thinking out loud more than anything. “It makes my true self come to the front. When there’s blood in you, all the friends and all the choices in the world don’t matter.”

“Like you have a split personality,” said George. “In the kitchen, it was like you were two different people.”

“Maybe I was,” said Mitchell dully. “Your priest told me that, told me that the man I was, he didn’t recognize him. Under the blood.”

“So no blood for you then,” said Nina briskly. “Any other questions?”

“Do you even like me?” he asked.

Nina smiled.

“I like you too much, Mitchell. That’s the only reason I’m doing this. Well, that and if I don’t forgive you, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

“You told me once that if you ever forgave yourself you wouldn’t be human anymore,” said Mitchell.

“Let me worry about my own humanity,” she said bitterly. “I’m not saying I’m right, but this is what I have to do.”

“Don’t, Nina,” said Mitchell, pleading with her.

She looked at him and for the first time, almost since he’d known her, there was peace in her eyes.

“Mitchell, I will be okay,” she said. “I’ll be less okay if you leave us, if you give up. Like it or not, you’re our leader, our shining example of the struggle. Is that how you want to be remembered, the one who failed?”

“I would’ve thought it was the other way around,” he said, half-laughing. 

“You’re here for your looks, not your brains,” she said simply.

Mitchell did laugh then, something inside him untwisting itself.

“I’m scared,” he admitted to them all.

Annie drew close and took his hand and he clung to it gratefully.

“Herrick,” began George. “I asked him to leave you alone once. I asked him why we couldn’t just run. Do you know what he told me?”

“Not being clairvoyant, no,” said Mitchell.

George glared at him, but that was better than weeping. Mitchell was feeling better with every second that passed, the dangerous charge of tension dissipating in the air.

“He told me you were dangerous. You had the blackest heart of them all. If you could change, then nobody should ever know, because if they did, then that would bring them hope. If you could change, so could anyone. To even have the desire to change was a miracle, Mitchell. You did what Herrick couldn’t even imagine doing. That shows…strength.”

Mitchell turned his head away, pointlessly perhaps since he’d been weeping in front of them almost the whole conversation.

“I mean it,” he said. “I want you to stake me if something goes wrong. But…but I’m willing to try. I’m willing to help and be helped. I don’t want to leave you, any of you. I don’t want to die, but I’m ready to die if I need to.”

“That sounds very promising,” said Nina.

"Thank you. All of you. You make me human,” he said simply.

“We make each other human,” said Annie, squeezing his hand and reaching up to caress his cheek. “Who’s for tea?”

“Annie, can you make it with your hands?” asked George, putting his arm around Nina.

“It tastes just as good when I don’t,” argued Annie. “And then I can do more things at once.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said George.

Annie laughed and rent-a-ghosted into the kitchen. George and Nina followed, presenting a united force. Mitchell took a deep breath and followed.

Guess he wouldn’t be dying today after all. He could handle that, especially after spending so much time trying not to die.

First he had to wrap his head around what they were trying to say. Somehow, without any prior consultation between the three of them, at least he didn’t think there had been, they’d managed to come to the conclusion that his life was worth saving. The thought humbled him and he vowed he would honor their evaluation of his character. But not by himself; no, those days were done. The time had come for him to quit trying to do everything by himself, to stop sashaying between brooding immortal and joyriding youth, and to build himself a lasting foundation in this world. He’d spent too long thinking of himself as different and special and unique. He needed to see himself as part of a group, a family unit, not just a shepherd or a leader, able to cut and run when things got hard.

He was in it for the long haul. For the first time in eternity, he was planning on staying forever and it didn’t scare him.


	14. Chapter 14

For the first time that Nina could remember she wasn’t feeling tense. Just pregnant, very very pregnant. Also, like she’d been stabbed. But those things paled in comparison to the relative peace she felt inside herself. All it took was some forgiveness and acceptance and a night spent trying to kill vampires. Imagine that.

She didn’t accept this world, she didn’t like it, but she was going to live in it. She was going to keep noticing things, keep herself from compromising, but she would also be careful to not be too rigid, too uncompromising. Either way was too hard and she didn’t want to pass that onto her child.

She’d been striving for so long to keep herself so completely separate from this supernatural world because she thought she’d lose her humanity if she decided to live in it. But she was starting to realize it wasn’t that different from the human world. After all, people could be bastards. Her mother was proof of that. In the end it might be more about the choices you make then what you are. If someone made the right decisions, that would be what made them human. She’d tried running away before and all it had done was leave her with no support. She’d tried finding a cure, but she was sure now there was no such thing. Maybe it was time she tried a bit of acceptance. There was no going back. There was only going native or dying.

She wasn’t alone now; she had George and the baby. The baby who, whatever terrors it might bring, had also saved her life and had no control over how it came into the world. She would just have to teach him or her how to make those good choices. The idea was terrifying, but less so than when she had first found out she was pregnant. Back then she wasn’t sure she could ever accept herself, let alone teach a child how to accept themselves. But with the support she had now, there would hopefully come a measure of control. She didn’t have to rely only on herself, just as Mitchell didn’t.

She was willing to forgive Mitchell because she knew she had to forgive herself. She’d still watch him like a hawk but more for his sake than for the purpose of trying to find a fault. She’d meant it when she said he was their leader. It made no sense, but it was the way it was. He still knew more than any of them, had survived in this world, and she needed all the help she could get. He just needed help as well and she was willing to offer it in fair exchange. What a difference a few months could make.

It was true she didn’t really remember what happened that night, she couldn’t control the wolf, there wasn’t some magical melding of their two personalities like George seemed to think had happened with him, but she had some inner access to her wolf that he didn’t and she was sure that was because of the baby. She remembered the pain of the knife twisting in her insides and smelling blood, so much blood. But after that was only rage. Somehow the pain had gone away and she knew that there was something that she hated, something that had caused her pain close by, and she’d followed that to its source.

From what Mitchell had said, that had been trying to kill Daisy, but for whatever reason that hadn’t happened. The fact that it was Daisy made sense to Nina because she couldn’t take out her anger on George, but she could take it out on Daisy. Well, she could take it out on George, but it wouldn’t be very productive to kill the father of her child. Besides, she could forgive him, she could see his penance. But the wolf, the wolf hadn’t come to any kind of decision that didn’t involve spilling the blood of the bitch that had tried to take what was rightfully Nina’s. She had gone for revenge, for the kill. Somehow Nina could take her wolf being just generally angry and killing anything that was in its path, but to have it intelligently follow a single person and try to kill them for its own personal reasons, that smacked too close to Mitchell boarding that train.

She’d done a lot of thinking about it in the hospital, in between drifting in and out of sleep, and speaking to George. She’d come to the conclusion that she had to change herself, her way of thinking, if only to have a measure of influence over the wolf when her own time for melding with it came. She’d been afraid of the darkness inside of her becoming too much for her to handle, she’d been afraid of growing too like it. Now she realized that instead of keeping it clamped down, she’d let it fester and grow and she couldn’t afford to do that anymore. In a way she was lucky that she had the cautionary tale Mitchell had painted in blood for her, she just wished she’d understood it sooner. Far from hating him, the compassion she felt was almost overwhelming.

Not that she was a very compassionate person on most days, but she’d felt how sickening true hatred was and she didn’t want that inside her. She wanted to move on, to wash everything clean, and to remember it only enough to keep it from happening again. She didn’t want to become her mother, visiting past regrets and sins onto the people around her. Nina had to provide the kind of atmosphere and help her child would need. A bit of wanting to keep Mitchell around was selfish, a bit of it was fear, but most of it was the need to build a family, and for that she was glad.

While they all ate together Nina relaxed, building up her strength, and letting go of her resentment of being thrust into this life. Leaning against George’s shoulders she reflected it wasn’t such a bad life. Annie had made a host of good things that Nina could eat in her current condition and George complained loudly that she was trying to take over his position in the kitchen. That was when Annie started talking about how she wanted to get a job again, which would alleviate some of the financial burden off of George and allow him more time in the kitchen.

Nina mostly watched Mitchell watching Annie and the awe in his eyes was enough to quiet most of her fears on that front. Nina loved Annie like a sister and she didn’t want Mitchell to hurt her. She also feared that most of the burden of Mitchell’s bad days would fall on Annie, especially once Nina and George were gone. Somehow, though, it felt like Annie could handle it now, whereas once upon a time, she might not have been able to bear that burden. Besides, there was a gentleness in Mitchell when he looked at Annie that he didn’t have at any other time. Nina didn’t know as she approved entirely, Mitchell was still on the brink of his latest fall off the wagon and Annie was recovering from a long captivity. Not to mention everything that had happened since those two things; they’d been brought together by a revenge driven ghost really. But maybe they would be good for each other; maybe they would be the cure the other needed, the helpmate for the trauma, the binding on the wounds.

Nina would have to watch how lyrical she got with her own thoughts; perhaps it was the pregnancy, yes, she was very happy to blame it on that. Not that she was unhappy to be pregnant, no, for the first time ever, she was genuinely happy about it. She was still anxious about the future; she wouldn’t be fully okay until the baby was actually born healthy. Even then there would be a lot of unknowns to consider, especially with Mitchell’s prophecy hanging over them. Mitchell mentioned something about trying to find some other werewolves for them to talk to and Nina appreciated the thought. Being a mother would be burdensome enough, having other people of her kind to help her would be a good thing.

Not that she wouldn’t have George. That was the best part of this whole experience, finally letting go of any reservations about George. About his character, about his fit with her, but also about how much he loved her, how much he chose her, how much who they were didn’t matter as long as they had each other to help deal with it. It was very reassuring to know that she didn’t doubt him any longer. Out of everyone she’d ever been with George had managed to hurt her the most, but he’d also been the only one who ever changed, who stayed when it mattered. That spoke more than his words of apology ever could. She didn't expect everything to be perfect right away. She fully expected a period of time where he'd have to regain her trust and it would likely be hard beyond the normal hardships of new parents, but despite that, she wanted to be with him forever and that’s why she’d practically gone down on one knee in the hospital.

Nina felt good about the future, hopeful. She also felt exhausted. Werewolf and baby recovery powers or not, she was pregnant and recovering from major surgery, she definitely needed to go back to bed. She broke the party up slightly reluctantly and after hugging both Annie and Mitchell, she and George headed upstairs to what was back to being their bedroom. Changing took the work of a moment and she was nestled in their bed, George spooned behind her, hands idly stroking her stomach.

“I missed you in here,” she said into the darkness.

“I missed you too,” he said. “I didn’t sleep very well alone.”

“Me either,” she said. “But I could blame it on the baby.”

“I’m here now,” he said, his weight solid and reassuring against her back.

“And you’re not allowed to leave again,” she reminded him.

“Never,” he said. “This is too comfortable.”

She laughed softly.

“It is very comfortable.”

“When do you want to get married?” he asked. “Before or after the baby?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “That depends on how we’re going to get married.”

“If you want a big wedding,” he said slowly as if feeling his way around the words, “we’ll find a way, get your family…”

“George, the only people I absolutely need to have there are in this house,” she said. “My family’s not been in the picture for a long time. What about you?”

He shrugged against her back, tensing slightly.

“Don’t want to get them involved,” he said. “They think I’m gone. A wedding invite might shatter that well constructed bubble.”

“You can think about it,” she said, yawning.

“I know,” he said. “Let’s talk about something better. Like names.”

“Ah, I see,” she said. “You’ve got ideas then?”

“Just one and don’t laugh,” he said.

“Ooh, this should be good,” she said, turning as well as she was able with her big belly in her way. “Let me have it.”

“If it’s a girl,” he said, “well, since she’ll be so new, and she’s kind of the first, at least the first that may not have been killed in a horrific fashion-”

“You’re really not helping here,” said Nina, amused.

“Eve,” he said.

“Eve,” Nina repeated, rolling the name around her tongue. “Eve. It’s a pretty name. I’ve always liked it.”

“You think?” he asked, sounding relieved.

“I do,” she said. “Fine, Eve if it’s a girl. But we’re not naming a boy Adam. I refuse on principle.”

“That’s okay by me,” said George. “We can think of a boy name later unless you have one.”

“I’ve just mainly been focusing on getting the baby out alive,” she said, yawning again.

“You’re tired,” he said immediately. “You need to sleep.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” she said, already fighting the need to sink into peaceful oblivion.

“Good night, Nina,” he said, kissing the back of her head.

“Good night, George,” she answered, squeezing the arm slung over her stomach. “I…I love you.”

He sucked in a deep breath and the voice he answered with was tremulous at best.

“I love you too, always.”

“That’s good, I’d hate to have to…kick…your ass,” she said, fading even as he chuckled behind her.

***

Annie felt nervous when George and Nina left the kitchen. Now that she was left alone with Mitchell she didn’t know what to say. He’d gone from asking them to kill him only a few hours before to joking about his cooking a few minutes ago. She didn’t know where that left the two of them. He’d heard the whole story about what had been happening with her the past couple of weeks and she realized now the two of them shared a similar flaw.

They both rather messed everything up when they tried to fix things. Her, because she could never let anything go, even when it wasn’t any of her business, and him, because he tried to do everything on his own, no matter the cost. She’d picked up more than a few of his tricks these last few months and she hadn’t even realized it.

She didn’t know how that realization would change their relationship status or if it would destroy it all together. They’d been friends, they’d had the idea of being a couple put into their heads by a crazy dead girl, both resisting for a long time, and only succumbing when Annie had gone through a traumatic event. That probably wasn’t the best way to become an item; at least she didn’t think so. Things would have to change if they were going to be together but she was shy about broaching the subject. All her new-found confidence apparently didn’t lend itself to this area of her life.

She lingered, picking things up, using her hands, both to steady her nerves and give him time to leave if that’s what he wanted. He didn’t go.

She smiled nervously. 

“Um, were you heading up? Did you want to- I mean, it doesn’t have to be the way it was, because I’m fine, uh, we don’t have to-”

He interrupted her with a hand over her mouth.

“We’re a bit of a mess, aren’t we?” he said, standing very close to her.

She nodded.

“It’s been…different,” she said. “Most interesting relationship, definitely.”

“Here too,” he said. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Neither do I,” she said, feeling both crestfallen and resolute. “Um, but it looks like you don’t want to…keep, uh, you know, going?”

“I didn’t say that,” he said. “Heaven help me, Annie, I want you too much to let you go if you’ll stay. I’m still not convinced it’s the best thing for you to do.”

Somehow his putting the decision in her lap like that was somewhat relaxing. It meant he was just as confused as she was, more importantly, that his feelings for her weren’t simply the result of the power of suggestion and a desire to negate the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head. 

“Let me worry about what’s best for me,” she said. 

“I’ll do that,” he said. “Still, are you sure you want to, as you so eloquently put it, keep, uh, you know, going?” She slugged him. “Ow!” he said. “That actually hurt.”

“Good,” she said.

He smiled slowly, and it did the kinds of things to her insides she wouldn’t have thought would be possible for a dead woman.

“So, we’re going to keep going then?”

“Yes,” she said, trying not to make it sound like a question.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh, Annie, I’m pretty crap at relationships. So, uh, I’m sorry in advance. I’m just scared I’ll do something awful and hurt you even worse than I already have.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” she said honestly. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take if you are.”

“If you can, I can,” he said.

“So neither one of us wants to just say, ‘let’s go for it,’ ” she said, laughing.

“Let’s go for it,” he said, deadpan.

She raised her hand again, ready to slug him. He moved forward, capturing her hand and pressing it between them. They were suddenly much closer than she knew what to do with.

“Um,” she said, “this is nice.”

He nodded.

“Yes, it is. You’re much warmer than you used to be.”

“I think it’s part of my camouflage,” she said, distracted by his proximity. “Uh, you know, to keep humans off the ‘being dead’ thing. I don’t think ghosts are supposed to be able to do it though.”

“You are unlike any ghost I’ve ever met,” he murmured. “You can do a lot of things they can’t.”

“Maybe it will go away, like it did before,” she suggested, not thinking about what she was saying so much as just saying it. “Maybe whoever was in charge before the Gray Man will take it away.”

“You could probably get it back,” he said, his forehead practically melded to hers. “I think you can do anything.”

“Well, there’s a lot of things I never thought I’d do that I’ve done,” she said.

He sighed.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Again, let me make my own mistakes,” she said, putting her hand up to his cheek. “I mean, like, if I’m about to telekinetically chop people up with axes, please stop me, but you know…let me figure things out. I’ve promised to abide by the group’s new rules of sharing, so I will.”

“I promise to try,” he said.

“Well, that’s better than nothing, I suppose,” she said.

Mitchell took a step backwards, which was good, because she didn’t know how long she could take being that close to him.

“Annie?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh, you don’t mind going slow? I mean, really slow. We’re both immortal, so I think we’ve got the time.”

She smiled.

“I think slow is good. Especially after how we started out.”

He looked relieved. They’d already had this conversation, but maybe they’d have to have all their conversations over again. Everything was changing and in some ways it felt like they’d never even kissed. They still hadn’t slept together; both times they’d tried, or started to, hadn’t resulted in any kind of a climax. In a way she was glad, because she didn’t want to start a relationship with him based either purely on physical attraction or on the assumption that their sex life would be fantastic. They were a bit hampered from the get go considering that it was hard for him to keep from vamping out and she didn’t really feel things the same way that he did. 

She had an idea about that though and she was a bit anxious to try it out.

“Thank you,” he said, running his hand through her curls. “I really don’t want to hurt you, Annie.”

“I know,” she said. “As crazy as this may sound, I trust you, Mitchell. I…love you, without reservation or expectations even. It’s…different, I’ve never loved like this and I don’t even know where this is going.”

“It’s going to eternity,” he said. “For the first time, there’s someone who can share everything with me. It scares the hell out of me, but it’s…it’s reassuring, comforting even. I’ve never loved anyone else this way either.”

“Oh, good,” she said, her mind automatically wandering to his past dalliances, especially Josie, but she decided not to worry about it.

In a way both of their lives were starting over.

He chuckled at the look on her face.

“So, what do you want to do?” he asked.

“Um, well,” she said, “we could go upstairs? Not to…you know, but, um, I’m wondering about something. Do you want to be my guinea pig?”

“That’s either the scariest thing I’ve ever heard or the most arousing,” he said.

“Race you,” she said, and rent-a-ghosted to his room.

His footsteps sounded on the stairs much faster than she would have imagined. Still she waited at least five seconds before he slipped into his room, much more quietly than seemed fair.

“That’s cheating,” he said, his breath ghosting on the back of her neck. 

She shivered slightly, not because she really felt it, but because she knew she should, if that made sense.

“You’re too used to being the one with the tricks,” she said.

“I’m going to have to up my game,” he said.

“Yup,” she said.

“So, we’re here,” he said. “What game did you want to play?”

She felt a little reluctant to share. It was one thing to think it and another to be vulnerable enough to share it. She didn’t even know how it would work exactly.

“So, you know how sometimes I can feel things through others?” she said. “I mean, like I can taste the things George is eating and so on?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Well, I mean, I can feel, probably better than other ghosts. I’m more…solid than they are. It’s like I remember what it’s like to be human, but even if we could- if we did have sex, well, it wouldn’t be normal.”

“Okay,” he said, looking confused.

“But I could feel what you’re feeling,” she said. “I mean, when I tasted George’s food, I…tasted the inside of his head, that’s how I could tell how at peace with the wolf he is now, the merging they’ve done. I don’t mean that I would just go traipse around in your thoughts or anything, but I could feel what you’re feeling, I think I could…well, maybe, reflect that back to you, or something.”

She ended rather lamely, twisting her hands.

He didn’t say anything for awhile.

“My head’s a dark place, Annie,” he said finally. “Are you sure you want to go in there?”

“I’m not planning on building a holiday home in there or anything,” she said. “It’s about you and me, how you feel about me and how I feel about you. Intimacy without the sex?”

He sat down on the bed.

“If you say you trust me,” he said, “I trust you. Just…if you don’t like it, get out of there, okay?”

“If you don’t like my being in there, tell me to leave,” she said. “I’m not even sure it will work, maybe vampires don’t count. I didn’t try those…those other times.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s worth a try.”

“Here goes nothing,” she said.

She sat down next to him on the bed, nervous. She reached forward, her hands on either side of his head, bending in to kiss him. He put one hand on hers.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Don’t…don’t hate me for…”

“Sh,” she whispered, stopping his mouth with hers.

She kissed him and he kissed her back while she figured out what she was doing. It was different than before; she was actively trying to forge a connection. Maybe, just maybe, this could be how she would be able to start up a counseling business, but she wanted to make sure she knew what she was doing first and being inside Mitchell’s head and heart was where she wanted to start.

Gradually as she probed she felt odd, the sensations of his lips moving against hers coupled with the sensations of her lips moving against his. It was working; she felt what he was feeling. It was entirely bizarre, her own lips were cold, and she tried to make them warmer. She could feel his hands around her waist, but also her waist under his hands. This was what she had wanted to achieve, but it was superficial. It felt good, but it wasn’t the closeness she’d thought to gain.

Digging deeper there was a warm pulse she concentrated on and it was like plunging into a hot bath. She felt his love, his affection, his admiration. It was overwhelming. To know what you meant to someone was usually restricted to their words and actions, but she could know, she could experience it for herself. In a way, it was humbling, because she knew she didn’t deserve everything he attributed to her. 

There were things she didn’t want to see, things about how he got irritated with her rambling or annoyed with her trying to fix things or how scared he was of revealing himself to anyone. He knew how to manipulate situations to his own ends; he knew how charming he could be. He was more than arrogant; he was deceptive with his own abilities. It was frightening. But always underneath was the thread of shame and guilt, the desire for better, the search for freedom, for release from his pain. His connections to George and Nina and her were bright paths inside the darkness.

She tried to take what she found and reflect it back to him. More than that, she tried to take what she was herself and give it to him. It was a slippery process; she was only an image after all. Being able to cast the illusion of warmth and color and solidity didn’t change who she was. She could manipulate the things around her, but projecting herself when she was only a memory was harder. She struggled for a few moments, but she did her best.

“Annie,” he muttered underneath her lips. “There you are.”

He began to cry and she almost pulled back, but she could feel in him less the fact that he was upset and more that he was feeling her own feelings for him. There was good and bad there as well. She loved him unreservedly but he frightened her sometimes, she was angry with him at others, at how selfish and arrogant he could be. The things that he’d done were constantly harping in the back of her mind, but not all of those things were bad. He’d been kind to her, he’d rescued George, and he’d saved them all from things she wasn’t even aware of. He was a tarnished one, but a knight to the last.

She didn’t know how long she could keep this up, or even if it was wise to do so. Coursing along the tendrils of her mental touch were grasping thoughts of darkness and blood. Hunger awoke in her, deep and needy hunger, overpowering her other thoughts and senses. She wanted to feed, to tear and rend, to swallow life itself and feel it wash across her mind with its numbing power.

This was akin to how she’d caught glimpses of the rage inside of George’s mind, but this was even more intense because she’d gone looking for it, opening herself up to every bit of evil inside of Mitchell, all of his bloody memories and inner delight at the carnage. There was such freedom in feasting on the little things of the world, in knowing he could literally do anything. There was nothing standing in his way but his own shame.

Gasping, Annie pulled back and scooted away from him. He stayed still like he’d been expecting it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No, Annie, I am,” he said, but he stayed where he was, like he was trying not to spook her away.

She just needed a moment, to adjust herself to what she’d seen. The scariest thing wasn’t the darkness inside of him but that she could empathize with it. That darkness was inside of her, too. She’d felt that greedy hunger herself, that desire to order everything the way she wanted it, to tear down what opposed her. That desire was recent with her, maybe starting with her death, but first really felt with Kemp and then with the Gray Man. She’d been terrified to feel it, she couldn’t imagine living with it for almost a hundred years.

“Mitchell, you’re so, you have so much,” she said insensibly, moving back closer and putting her hand against his cheek, carefully not moving inside his mind. “I’m so sorry you’ve dealt with that for so long.”

“You felt it, the hunger,” he said, not asking so much as stating a fact.

She nodded.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry you had to feel it,” he said, taking her hands.

“But I had already felt it,” she said, explaining to him.

He looked worried.

“Annie, that shouldn’t be.”

“You don’t have a monopoly on the threat of the dark,” she said. “That should encourage you.”

“But not you,” he said.

“It just means I can help you and you can help me,” she said, completely confident now that she’d gotten past the first shock. “It’s like what we said earlier, this is forever.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he said.

“Shut up,” she said. “That smacks too closely to giving up.”

“I won’t give up,” he said. “I don’t know if I can now. I felt your love for me, Annie, I don’t deserve it but I don’t ever want to lose it.”

“None of us deserve what we get in life,” she said. “The good or the bad. We’ve got a second chance, Mitchell; I’d like to take it.”

“I’m right with you,” he said.

“I was hoping you would be,” she said.

Pulling at him, she reclined on the bed, bringing him with her, and then curled alongside of him, her leg draped comfortably over his. Casually, she kept her hands on his chest and took his shoes and shirt off, sending them across the room to drape neatly over a chair. The covers folded themselves over the top of them and she didn’t feel their warmth, but she knew he did.

She’d never tried sleeping, even though he’d urged her to. To her it had always felt too much like actually dying, but right now she felt like it might not be such a bad thing, to lie dreaming of him all night, while he was cocooned against her. Whether she could or couldn’t sleep, this felt like the beginning she’d been looking for since her head had hit the entryway tile.

***

George opened his eyes in the early morning light and squinted. For a moment he wasn’t sure where he was. Then everything came flooding back to him and he reassured himself that it was real by gently squeezing the sleeping form of Nina next to him. He lazily kissed her shoulder, imagining many happy mornings like this one, only with the baby on the outside of the womb, likely screaming up a storm. He couldn’t wait. There would be bad days, he was positive about that, but something had changed within all of them the past couple of days. They’d gone through something traumatic and come out the other side with friendships and souls intact. He might be a werewolf with a vampire for one best friend and a ghost for another, but he’d never felt more human. It was so peaceful and he’d missed that feeling.

He got up, careful not to disturb Nina, and made his way to the toilet. Afterwards he tapped lightly on Mitchell’s door and peeked his head in. Mitchell was still asleep; Annie was wound around him, very much not asleep, but she looked content. She winked at George and gestured for him to get. He got and went downstairs, rummaging in the kitchen. With all the havoc in the household they hadn’t done much shopping and they were out of a lot of things. He found some bacon in the back of the freezer and a few eggs in the refrigerator and poured out some juice. He started the coffee and put the kettle on.

Cooking tended to calm him down. There was something about following directions, knowing that as long as you followed them, the end result was going to be good, that made him feel in control and relaxed. Today he didn’t really need to be calmed, but he liked the routine all the same. He rolled his shoulders, still a bit tense from his night out and subsequent day in the hospital. He had a shift later that day and wasn’t really looking forward to it, but it would be normal and that was always good in his book.

He made himself some toast to go along with his breakfast and sat there, crunching, in his bathrobe.

He was still thinking, processing what had happened. Above all, what occupied his current thoughts was Mitchell’s description of the night of the full moon. George kept asking himself why he and Nina hadn’t torn Mitchell to shreds. He still didn’t have an answer. Was it because, as Mitchell thought, he’d had Nina’s blood on him, somehow fooling the wolves into thinking he was one of their own? George wasn’t so sure. He knew the wolves were smart and their sense of smell was beyond par. George wondered if the answer wasn’t closer to the wolf sensing that Mitchell was someone George wouldn’t want to kill. Or maybe that the wolf knew his mate was dying and that Mitchell could help heal her. George’s wolf clearly hadn’t wanted Mitchell to leave, even if he hadn’t killed him.

Pronouns were a bit difficult now that George was convinced he and the wolf were more linked than just one being the other on the full moon. But he decided not to worry about it, or about why Mitchell hadn’t been killed. The important thing was that everyone was alive. Herrick was dead, sure, but George didn’t feel sorry about that, except that Mitchell had had to do it. In a way it was like George’s own sin had been absolved. Either way, it was finally finished and George was ready to move on, move on from his own guilt about Herrick and Daisy and from his hurt originating from things like Tully’s attack and Mitchell’s betrayal.

So today he was just going to have breakfast.

It was probably the smell that woke the others. George had intended on surprising Nina in bed, but she beat him to it, appearing down the stairs with a good morning kiss and a demand to be fed. She looked a hundred times better than she had the night before.

Mitchell and Annie followed soon after.

George busied himself with making sure there was enough food for everyone and not looking anyone in the eye. Everything felt right and normal, but there was still an undercurrent of expectancy in the room, like everyone was waiting for someone else to tell them what to do.

“I’ve got a shift later,” said George idly. “Once more unto the breech of the vile smelling heaps of sick.”

“Are you going to work as a porter forever?” asked Mitchell around a mouthful of bacon.

George made a face at him.

“It was your idea to begin with,” said George.

“Yeah, but you’re meant for something more than that, aren’t you?” said Mitchell. “I mean, you speak six languages, George.”

“Whatever happened to keeping a low profile?” asked Nina, with raised eyebrow.

“Well, last time didn’t work out so well,” said Mitchell, “but it was the getting involved with a single mum and trying to dope the wolf that was the problem, not being a teacher.”

“Are you serious?” asked George, about ready to knock Mitchell on the head. “You’re joking.”

“No,” said Mitchell. “I’ve been thinking. I mean, we could all use a fresh start, right? We should leave here; I mean, it would be best to disappear again, just as soon as it’s safe to, so we should all get to revisit what we want in life.”

“Why do we have to leave?” asked Annie.

“We didn’t exactly lead as quite a low profile life as I’d hoped,” said Mitchell. “I mean, there’s at least one vampire who knows exactly where we live and has an invite. Besides, police reports link George and Nina to a violent attack. Once it won’t look suspicious, we should leave. But for good, I mean, find somewhere big and spacious with lots of room for the baby and for werewolf rampages.”

“Where?” asked Nina.

“England sound good?” Mitchell asked.

“It sounds excellent,” said George, already day dreaming about a farmhouse in the country.

“I mean it, about the teaching,” said Mitchell. “You should try again. Just like Annie should open her supernatural counseling practice. And Nina can go back to the hospital if that’s what she wants.”

“What will you do?” asked Nina suspiciously, but for the first time her suspicious tone sounded almost fond. 

“Oh, you know, be a kept man,” said Mitchell. Annie thwacked his arm and he choked on his eggs. “I mean,” he said, when he’d finished choking, “I can come work at the hospital with you. I, at least, should remain very low profile.”

“Because of the train?” asked George in a low voice.

“Yeah,” said Mitchell, not looking at any of them directly. “And if people come looking for us, they’ll come for me first. Best if I don’t give them a big target.”

“Who would come looking for you?” asked Nina.

Mitchell shrugged.

“Mitchell!” said George warningly, sudden fear spiking at Mitchell’s non-response.

“I mean it, I don’t know,” said Mitchell. “George, try not to hyperventilate. But it feels like no matter where we go something happens, so I’d just like to be cautious.”

“Now I’ve heard everything,” said Nina, eating another bite.

Mitchell winked at her and she glared at him and George felt something inside him relax completely.

“I’ve got lots of different names,” said Mitchell matter-of-factly. “I’ve lived a long time in case anyone was wondering.”

“Oh, really?” asked George, taking a sip at his mug. “You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

“And I never will,” said Mitchell cheerfully.

“Moving is exciting,” said Annie, somehow managing to look exactly like the rest of them despite the fact that she wasn’t eating or drinking anything. George noticed that occasionally she leaned over and placed a light hand around Mitchell’s head and he guessed she must be tasting what Mitchell was eating. Better him than George. “I used to be so afraid to go outside and now I want to see everything.”

“There are so many beautiful things in this world I want to show you,” said Mitchell. “We've just got to wait till these two kick it.”

“Oi,” said George. “Less with the dying, more with the explaining. I thought there was some wolf pack around here we were supposed to get all cozy with?”

“We’re not leaving tomorrow,” said Mitchell, rolling his eyes. “There’s lots of time to talk to them, see if they’ve got the answers to our questions. We should wait until after the baby is born.”

“Why?” asked Nina.

“Everyone here knows you’re pregnant,” said Mitchell. “We don’t know how the baby’s gonna be born. Best wait until we know what it’ll come out as, then establish yourself somewhere new with a baby that’s appropriate to the age they look or maybe…” he hesitated, “…maybe it will be best to pretend you don’t have a baby.”

“Look, whatever Eve looks like we’re going to love her, we’re not ashamed of her,” said George hotly.

“I’m not saying that,” said Mitchell. “We’ll all love her, but it may be in her best interest to hide her- wait, Eve?”

Annie had already pushed forward, a grin on her face.

“A baby girl? Really?”

“That’s what George thinks,” said Nina.

“And I’m right, I know it,” said George. “The name seemed to fit.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hold her,” said Annie.

“I don’t know if I ever said congratulations,” said Mitchell.

“You still haven’t,” pointed out Nina.

“My heartiest good wishes to you both,” Mitchell said.

“Thanks,” said George, already forgetting Mitchell’s earlier words. “Actually,” he said, grabbing Nina’s hand as it only seemed right to do, “we do have a bit of an announcement to make.”

“What more of an announcement could you make?” asked Mitchell.

“We’re going to be married,” said Nina. “Not sure when or how, but we’re going to do it.”

“Oh, that’s so lovely,” said Annie, clapping her hands. “I’m so happy for you both. I can’t wait.”

“Cheers,” said Mitchell.

“Thank you,” said George, the warmth of human kindness straight out of a P.G. Wodehouse novel rising in him at their words.

“Right, well, I suggest marriage and baby, and then we move somewhere,” said Mitchell.

“We’ll have time to plan you a gorgeous wedding and get baby things and then…” said Annie, but George tuned out most of what she said next.

He didn’t need to know the specifics for probably the first time in his life. He was content.


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half of the notes are up here and half down below since they're so long and Ao3 doesn't like that. Sorry about the inconvenience
> 
> Things I don’t get about S3
> 
> 1\. The Box Tunnel 20. Frankly, I was confused in the first couple episodes as to why it seemed like nobody knew it was Mitchell. I mean, clearly, everyone knew it happened. How could they not think it was him? They all knew he was not playing for the white hats during that time. Who wouldn’t put that two and two together? I just assumed that everyone knew about it until it became very clear he was trying to cover it up. 
> 
> Part of that, I guess, is me being way too blasé about vampires killing people. A side effect of our culture's obsession with them. So I sadly don't automatically go to the place where a vamp killing a train full of innocents is a horribly immoral thing. However, one of the great bits about BH is that it refuses to let its characters get away with anything (except for George shagging Daisy, but that’s a S2 thing. Not that it stopped me from dealing with it here, even though I was really reluctant to, not being quite sure how to do it). Nevertheless, it doesn’t make any sense for them not to have known, even with George announcing in the S2 finale that he wouldn’t be Mitchell’s confessor, (and clearly he did figure it out) but it’s just insulting to Nina and Annie’s intelligence to say they had no clue.
> 
> A little sub-note to this is in regards to Mitchell’s slaughter at the Kemp facility. So…Box Tunnel 20 = 'horrible, no good, very bad Mitchell, how could he have done it?' reaction, but they watched him kill all those people at the facility and try to kill Lucy and Kemp and that didn’t bother them? That was a forgivable slip off the wagon? The entire premise of S3 falls apart a little bit with this double standard and it annoys me. 
> 
> 2\. Lia. So, don’t get me wrong, I really like her, and I think she’s a great character, but I’m just wondering where she gets all her power. I get that it’s ironically tragic and powerful for Mitchell to self fulfill his own prophecy and take the decision into his own hands, but it doesn’t make any sense for the prophecy to be fake. Because if it is then Lia is this random new ghost who somehow has the ability to take Mitchell down memory lane and just give him Annie for free and then talk to him through the tv and then form the ‘wolf shape bullet’ and then animate dead corpses to speak rhymes, all for her own revenge? No…doesn’t make sense. Say she just has the ability to do most of those things because she’s dead and in purgatory…well, okay, but to be able to send Annie home…that had to come from higher up. All of S2 Annie was running from doors trying to swallow her whole because they wanted her back so badly and then they just…decided, ‘eh, Lia’s a good kid, she should get her revenge, and if that means giving up our own obsession, that’s a-okay by us?’ Yeah, didn’t think so.
> 
> 3\. Herrick. Yeah, Herrick’s a great villain, bringing him back, really helpful for making Mitchell nuts, but it’s just rushed and not well thought out. They bring him back for one morally charged episode where everyone’s figuring out what their limits are and then it’s just like they forget about him. He’s just kinda there to be ‘crazy old amnesiac Herrick’ living in the attic, there to drive wedges between everyone when they bother to remember he’s living there.’ Sure, Mitchell goes up occasionally to terrorize him and I’m sure Nina’s very good at giving him shaves, but THEY JUST LEAVE THE AMNESIAC KILLING MACHINE ALONE IN THE HOUSE ALL THE TIME. He’s never taken into consideration. 
> 
> Everyone else got mad at Mitchell for letting Nancy talk to Herrick alone but they all left him alone all the time. Like it was an issue for one episode, but then…'eh, whatever' after that. George pops off for some family time and then Nina runs after him without giving a single thought to the mad vampire in the attic. It just drove me crazy every episode when they would leave the house and I’d be like…'hello, killer in the attic' who doesn’t need, say, locks on the doors, or a guard, or something. Did everyone take their stupid pills that month? Whatever happened to ‘he’s your murdering fugitive, if you want to keep him, you have to look after him?’

Two months later

George strolled down the lane, enjoying the summer air. Barry didn’t have much of a season, but when it did, it was lovely. He was somewhat sorry to have to leave the area, but he was more excited than anything. People outside of the UK might think the difference between Wales and England wasn’t that much, but he’d gladly point out everything that made England his true home to them in a heartbeat.

He still liked the fact that he had to walk a ways before he got to Mitchell’s car that he’d borrowed for the day. It was too long a trip to walk here, but at least he got to walk this part of it.

Mitchell had done a couple of scouting trips and procured a large farmhouse for them in Surrey. Close enough to the city that they could get what they needed, but far enough away to be able to run in the wild if need be. The basement was large and exactly suited to a werewolf enclosure. There was also a barn with an underground storm cellar that would work as well. Everything was going according to plan.

George would miss the people he’d met in Barry. It was amazing how fast a relationship one could build in a short time. The werewolf pack Mitchell had found for them was led by a man named McNair and his just barely adult son Tom. There were a couple of older women werewolves named Sandy and Pat and then a young teenage girl named Lara. A very elderly werewolf named Leo was the last member of their clan. They even had their own resident ghost, a woman from the fifties named Pearl.

They’d been where they were for years and had kept out of sight and out of harm’s way. They collected anything to do with werewolves so they were a source of knowledge surpassing even Mitchell. They were honest and simple people but if McNair’s necklace of vampire teeth was anything to go by, fierce as well, and not people you wanted to cross.

Their introduction to the pack society had been slow and cautious. It was only within the past few days that George and Nina had fully disclosed the full details of their pregnancy and Mitchell had been introduced to the pack. That had been dicey at best but while McNair wouldn’t allow Mitchell anywhere near the house, it wasn’t like Mitchell was dying to go. They’d been much more encouraging on the subject of the pregnancy and Sandy was a midwife. She’d been staying at the bed and breakfast for the last few days, watching Nina closely.

Tom was easily the friendliest of all the werewolves, anxious to learn, polite and well mannered, with very dry humor. He was a strong fighter like his father, but without the sense of tragedy that hung around McNair like a cloud. He’d already expressed a desire to come to England with them when they moved and George thought with a bit of work McNair would agree to it.

George’s mobile rang in his pocket and he answered it only to be greeted with the frantic swearing of a werewolf in labor.

“Nina!” he shouted.

“Get home, George,” shouted Nina, sounding like she’d very much like to draw and quarter him when he got there.

“I’m coming, Nina, I’m coming,” he said, a frantic feeling rising inside him.

He could well be the exact cliché of an expectant father, but he didn’t care, he was having a baby! He hastily dialed Mitchell and began running for the car.

***

Mitchell exited the rather dubious establishment with a firm click of the doors, his new identity in hand. He was still John Mitchell, he didn’t want to change things too much, but his date of birth and other identifying information had been updated as he was bound to do every ten or fifteen years anyway. He’d been able to use some of his randomly stored funds to help them buy a house in Surrey and put it in George and Nina’s name. In a way this simply erased the John Mitchell who had committed the atrocities he was trying to get away from. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t always carry them, he still felt their weight, but it was easier to bear. Easier because of George and Nina and their support, easier because of Annie and her love.

The Box Tunnel Twenty case was still a big deal in the local media but an earthquake in Chili and flooding in Australia and the rape of a young girl in Kent had taken the rest of the world's attention for the most part. It was a natural cycle but it didn’t make it right. He knew that the families of the people he’d affected weren’t going to be able to forget as easily as the media but their attention lapsing made it easier for him to come back into circulation as it were. He’d heard that the case file was going to be closed since there were no clues leading to a feasible arrest. Eventually the events would fade into oblivion, another tragedy for the locals to gossip about and tell newcomers.

At least now when they moved, as they were due to do in ten days, he would be able to get a job and help support their growing family and not have to access anymore of his other funds. Doing so attracted more attention than he wanted and getting a job would keep him from going crazy with inactivity. Keeping busy was a big step in not succumbing to the hunger which still buzzed in his veins and the back of his mind and which he constantly had to resist.

But things were better than they’d been in a long time. He no longer felt like he was drowning in guilt. It wasn’t like he was miraculously better, that would never happen, but for the first time in a long time he felt like he was going to make it.

His mobile rang as he was pulling out a cigarette and he answered. George’s flustered voice squeaked in his ear.

“Mitchell, it’s time, it’s happening. You’re going to come, right, you’re coming?”

“George, relax,” said Mitchell. “I’m on my way. Did you leave a message for Annie?”

“Uh, no,” said George. “Just hurry, because she’s coming. I’m leaving McNair’s now.”

“I’ll be there, George. Just breathe; you’re going to have a daughter.”

“I am, I am,” said George and hung up.

Mitchell tucked his mobile in his jacket and put away his cigarettes. Time to play the reassuring uncle.

***

Annie chatted happily with Sykes, detailing all their new plans. Sykes listened patiently though she got the idea that he’d much rather be doing anything else and not investing further in a friendship with such a talkative ghost. She was proud of him for sticking it out though. She’d been spending a lot of time in Bristol trying to help him keep the ghost community in line since her adventure there a few months before and it had renewed their acquaintance through constant exposure.

Things had been in a bit of a panic with rumors flying around about someone called the Ghost Eater and Annie wasn’t too thrilled about having a new nickname, especially one so cannibalistic. But she’d done some reassuring, helped people cross over when she could, and gradually the name of Ghost Eater had become something she was only to enemies and not to her own.

Just how she’d managed to gain a following was a bit beyond her, but the rumors included tales about her time on the other side and what she’d done to the Gray Man and there was a bit more communication between the other side and the mortal world now, and not just ghosts terrorizing people and clogging up radio waves. From what Annie could tell, Gilbert was really taking people in hand on the other side and nothing new and terrible had arisen from what she’d done. She still had her fingers crossed but it appeared like it was business as usual with doors appearing when people resolved their unfinished business. 

Lia was apparently truly fitting in and making friends and seemed less about the revenge but Annie didn’t think she’d ever be able to fully trust her. Sykes was a liaison of sorts when Annie thought it necessary to deal with people in Purgatory. She had hopes now that eventually he’d actually be able to cross over himself and not find the horrors that he believed he would. He wasn’t quite there yet, but she was working on him.

She was working on a lot of people. She had a legitimate business growing. She’d discovered that her ability to feel the feelings of the living could translate to ghosts as well, being a good method of helping them figure out why they hadn’t crossed over yet. It wasn’t like the ghosts could pay her, but she’d gotten information and favors and it was a good barter system. She was even teaching them to use their abilities just like Sykes had taught her. 

She’d practiced enough that she was confident she could open a business once they moved and work up human clientele. Having the ability to ghost in and out of solidity would make it possible for her to get a sense of their psyche on their first visit, and then move on from there. Mitchell was helping her with paperwork for her existence and her business. She was honestly excited about the future and couldn’t wait to get started.

Her life was such a far cry from the lonely ghost who’d asked a demented priest to exorcise her barely half a year before. Annie felt more alive than ever if that was possible and could be said with a straight face.

She bid farewell to Sykes and prepared to hop back to the house. She wanted to check on Nina who was getting closer and closer to having her baby girl.

Annie rent-a-ghosted home, then paused because blood-curdling screams were echoing through the house. 

***

Nina sucked in another breath but it felt like they were being snatched away from her before she could get any benefit from them. Everything hurt, she was being compressed and stretched and she really wanted to kill everything she could with a rage that had nothing to do with being a werewolf and everything to do with being a woman in labor. 

She’d called George and he’d panicked and he would come, but in the meantime Nina was stuck with Sandy, who was the most competent of midwives even if Nina wasn’t exactly excited about having an almost stranger be the only person present at the birth of her daughter. A bit of the old fear started to creep into her mind, brought on by the immense pain, no doubt, but Nina didn’t want to feel abandoned or useless or fearful or angry or bitter right now.

A cool hand slipped over her forehead.

“I’m here, Nina,” said Annie’s voice. “I’m right here.”

“Annie,” said Nina, sighing with relief as the contraction eased and she could breathe again. “Thank God.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally,” Sandy said matter-of-factly, whisking around straightening sheets and somehow making the room feel better, while managing to wink at Annie conspiratorially.

A door slamming below signaled the presence of another person in the house only it wasn’t George, but Mitchell, who Nina was relieved to see but ordered out of the room immediately.

“I don’t care how close we are, you are not being present for this!” she said.

Mitchell actually laughed and wished her luck before leaving. She almost got up to kick his vampire ass down the stairs.

Annie’s hands were marvelously cool and Nina calmed as she listened to Annie’s soft litany of reassurances. Having Annie there was good, very good. Soon George would be there; soon they would have a daughter. She’d already been doing this for longer than she’d ever want to do anything. It couldn’t last much longer, at least she hoped not.

Frantic footsteps heralded the arrival of her almost to be husband. Muttered and loud exclamations came from him just outside the door and then Mitchell’s voice answered more calmly.

George poked his head through the door and he already looked less frazzled which Nina could grudgingly contribute to whatever Mitchell had said to him.

“I’m here,” he said, coming to her, slipping his hand in hers.

She was in the midst of another contraction so she didn’t say anything, simply gripped his hand as tight as she could. Annie’s presence and George’s strength stayed with her for many blinding minutes of pain. She wasn’t sure how long it lasted; only that she hated every minute of it.

But some time later, she heard Sandy’s voice say dimly that she was ready and for her to push.

Nina could barely concentrate but she did what Sandy said, instinct and pain driving her. She squeezed George and Annie’s hands and bore down as hard as she could. She had no words for the sensations that happened next but she’d remember them vividly, she knew that.

“Keep going,” said Sandy. “The head’s out.”

Annie was hopping up and down, but her hand was still held fast in Nina’s. George was silent, but when Nina managed to look at him she could see how white he was. 

Nina pushed again and pushed and pushed and pushed and it was a nightmare cycle of push and stop and assess until she felt something give way and Sandy announced Eve’s birth.

George let out a whimper and Nina flopped back onto the pillows, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of the umbilical cord and the tightness in her body. She was so tired and she barely noticed all the usual business of cutting the cord and cleaning the baby and Annie announcing the arrival to Mitchell in the hall.

But now Nina was ready, ready to see her daughter. Sandy handed Eve to George who held her with steady hands but he was shaking and tears fell from his eyes.

“Look at her, Nina,” he said, bending close to the bed. “Look at how beautiful she is.”

Nina reached forward with limp arms and held Eve. She was beautiful just as George had said, she had a full head of hair but there was no other sign that she was the daughter of two werewolves and the insignia of a new age to come. She was big and had blonde hair with blue eyes, George’s eyes, and Nina’s nose.

“Oh, she’s so beautiful,” said Annie, hands clasped to her chest.

The moment was perfect and once Nina had finally finished all the other nasty parts of childbirth and Sandy had cleaned her up a bit, she could finally enjoy it.

Mitchell came in from the hall while Sandy bustled down to the kitchen. 

“Who’s this then?” asked Mitchell.

“This is Eve,” said George hoarsely. “This is our Eve.”

“Hello, Eve,” said Mitchell gravely. 

Nina wasn’t quite ready to give her up to anyone just yet, but she held Eve higher so Mitchell could see her.

Mitchell dropped a finger across Eve’s cheek softly and then stepped back, reaching for Annie’s hand.

“Isn’t she amazing?” asked Annie, having already dusted Eve with kisses.

“She’s beautiful,” he said. “Got her mother’s ears, thank God.”

George protested a little bit, but Nina wasn’t listening to the banter between the three of them. She was watching Eve’s face, her barely open eyes, studying the four of them. Nina was experiencing an event she’d never thought she would, the instant connection between mother and child she’d always scoffed at. It had a calming effect on Nina’s nerves and she wasn’t afraid anymore.

It was the most normal thing in the world and Nina wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4\. McNair. Now…again, I really like him. Very interesting guy, but he and Tom were just a little too plot device-y. The big story of the Season is Mitchell is going to get killed by a werewolf, let’s add a bunch more werewolves to the mix for suspense! Let’s make McNair a really bad ass fighter too. And then…George and Nina are having what could be the first ever werewolf pregnancy, let’s give Tom and MacNair a really tragic and interesting backstory to help with that plotline. Wow, Herrick’s back and we need a way to get him all murder-y again, why not have Herrick be the reason that MacNair became a werewolf and started on his sad life? Conveniently in the exact same cage that started this whole season. Because I guess Barry is the center of all demonic convergence in Wales. The total Hellmouth. How spooky that everyone ended up there again.
> 
> 5\. The inevitability of vampires being evil. In a way it’s refreshing to have such evil in vampires again who’ve been rather neutered of late, but…the way I see it, it’s depressing to have your main character irredeemable simply because of what he is. Regardless of how you feel about Mitchell, he put in a dang good try to be good, and if he can’t do it, well, no one can. Therefore, all the vampires are just…two dimensional all of a sudden. Their struggles, their humanity, their personalities, all of it pales because I know that in the end they’re just going to fall. It didn’t matter how amazing they made Hal after that, there was no point in my getting invested in another vampire who struggles to do good but just can’t make it in the end. What was the point of Ivan or Daisy or Lauren because they’re all just slippery slopes of doom? I approved of Lauren making the choice for her death, it worked for her character, but to have Mitchell just copy that path in the end was, I felt, a cheat, a cop out. I need a bit of hope, yes, it may be a struggle, yes, they may fall, but I want there to be a hope that in the end, they can make it. Oh, Aidan Turner, why did you have to go and become the hot dwarf?
> 
> 6\. Annie being used as a plot device in Mitchell’s story. This is not necessarily something I don’t get, but something that irked me. She’s barely in the first episode and what there is of her is used to promote Mitchell. She comes back and she’s obsessed with making him happy and ends up messing things up a lot. She doesn’t really have anything to do other than fall in love with him and even when she gets a purpose (ie finding out the BT20) that ends up being all about Mitchell too and her feeling betrayed about it and broken hearted about him. Etc. She was the weapon forged against him. That’s all. It would have been much better if she’d had PTSD about being in Purgatory or developed her poltergeist-y powers or dealt with what she’d done to Kemp (yeah, so that line about how she’d never even hurt a butterfly…did we just conveniently forget she dragged Kemp INTO HELL?) or anything like that. S3 they talked about the danger not being from either supernatural or human but from within. But it would have been nicer if it was the darkness inside all four of them then just Mitchell railroading.


End file.
